Category Archives: Californiatimez

Yosemite: Autumnal Instagramz

Dear Diary,

I returned home over the weekend for a friend’s wedding celebration. In addition to the celebratory food and drink I inhaled at her party, I also inhaled the beauty of autumn in Yosemite. Naturally, I Insta’d as much as I could. After all, if a tree exists in a forest but you don’t Instagram it, does it really exist? (No).

Yosemite Falls, minus the falls.

Yosemite’s famous lone maple tree. It sits by itself at the edge of the field, telling everyone when fall arrives. It wears the brightest colors in Yosemite, which reminds me a lot of myself as a Yosemite teenager.

I have no idea what amazing child made this awesome horseplate but if I were a fancy gallerist I’d totally put this in my fancy gallery.

When you live in Yosemite, you get used to seeing deer outside your windows. In fact, we refer to them as “Forest Rats.”

Autumn colors in Yosemite tend to be neon yellows and greens. Not a lot of bright red like you see back East.

“Hey Girl. You going to eat that whole apple? We hungry.”

In Yosemite, you don’t really drive to the store unless it’s snowing, so when I came across this must-have pumpkin, I took it home on my bicycle.

The greys and yellows make for a glamourous fall color palette.

Here’s a deer eating something. Boring.

Fun Fall-Winter drink: Mulled apple cider with brandy. I haven’t liked Brandy this much since Moesha. This drink is even more fun in a seasonally inappropriate Santa Mug (we’ve had this one since I was born).

The drive home, up California’s iconic Grapevine Freeway. Pretty ugly, right?

Wherever you are, run toward the closest forest and look for some fall color. Hurry!

Love,
Orlando

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Filed under California, Californiatimez, Fun In Nature, Halloween, Instagramz, Outdoor Art, Photographs, Yosemite

Whut Glamour: Chris Camargo’s Los Angeles

Dear Chris Camargo,

I love the beautiful images of Los Angeles you kindly share on your photo blog. You capture our city the way only somebody who truly loves it could. If you’re having a bad day, hating the smog, plastic surgery, and superficiality that gives this city a bad rap, take a look at these pretty pictures:

These pictures make me happy.

Love,
Orlando

PS: Check out Chris Camargo’s professional site for more fashion and commercial photographs.

7 Comments

Filed under California, Californiatimez, I Love LA, Images I Love, Uncategorized

Oh My God Where Did You Get That ADORABLE Nazi Tee?

Dear Reader,

The other day I was at the gym when I spotted a dude wearing this T-Shirt from American Apparel.

It’s a pretty rad shirt. I love pink. I love triangles. And I love graphic tees. But the shirt is also a political statement. Now, not only can you buy ugly/ironic non-functioning spectacles and short shorts at American Apparel (thank god), you can also buy fashionably political t-shirts. Is this cool? Or perplexing? Or both? Also, I want one. Is that okay?

And now for a mini Gay history lesson, as told by someone whose knowledge of Gay history is almost as thin as Nicole Ritchie in that famous running-on-the-beach-in-a-diaper photograph.

The pink triangle was originally used by Nazis to label the Gays in concentration camps. It was appropriated by Gays in the 1970s and made popular by the Act Up movement. For those of you who don’t know Act Up, it was started by Homo Activist Larry Kramer in the 80s in response to the fact that Ronald Reagan was doing nothing about a health crisis that was killing the entire Gay community. In short, Act Up was an advocacy group that protested the government’s lack of action in AIDS research and the provision of experimental AIDS treatments for people with AIDS. They were fighting to save lives, and were thus awesome.  They protested and protested. The protests looked like this:

The Act Up protests often attracted counter protesters like these:

…Um, yes I do. Have you seen me?

Artists, like Keith Haring (above) played a huge role in Act Up, creating visuals to spread their message. Sidenote: I love Keith Haring. Love. Love. Love.

The signature of Act Up is the triangle. Which is right side up, unlike the upside down triangle used to label the Gays in Nazi concentration camps. Inverting the Nazi triangle was a way of negating it, flipping it on its head to use it as a symbol of Gay empowerment. A lot of interesting art was made utilizing that pink triangle:

Which brings me back to this American Apparel t-shirt:

Why is the triangle upside down, Nazi-style? Obviously there is some sort of appropriation/subversion thing going on considering American Apparel owner Dov Charney is Jewish, as is this model (who I know in real life because all Gay people living in Los Angeles know each other. It’s true). But I’m still a little confused…

I don’t disapprove of this shirt because American Apparel has made it clear that they are pro-Gay and pro-Jew. But it does seem kind of crazy to sell a shirt with a Nazi symbol on it without explanation. In all honesty, they probably put the triangle upside down because it’s more flattering than a regular triangle, accentuating your broad shoulders and that tiny little waist! And wouldn’t you prefer the Nazi triangle to the Act Up triangle if the Nazi one makes you look better? Don’t answer that.

Love,
Orlando

12 Comments

Filed under Amazing Gays, Beauty, California, Californiatimez, Fashonz, Gays

God Hates Flags (No He Doesn’t)

Dear Flags,

You’re all over the place these days. I started obsessing when I saw this image from Design Sponge. Of course, the whole thing is reliant on how aged and full of history that flag is. This Ikea Malm Bed looks totally cool because it’s surrounded by that great flag and a bunch of other awesome stuff.

This barn exists on Highway 41, outside my hometown of Yosemite Village, California. I’ve always been fascinated with it, even though it was probably painted by crazy xenophobes who run around accusing everyone of being terrorists.

You know how sometimes you’re like “I want distinctive and interesting drapery!” and then you can’t find any. Well these people just used an old flag and it looks great. Let this be a lesson to you.

This look is a little more clean, modern, and Jasper Johns-y, but it works well with the all-white decor in this room.

And now onto a flag that I like even more than the American flag. The Californian flag. Everyone who knows me knows I am a blowhard about the fact that California is the best state in the Union. And our flag, with its adorable fluffy bear, is the best flag in the world. Here is the original one:

Here is another vintage flag. The font is a lot more delicate than the current one.

And this girl. She’s all “Hay, I moved to California because I’m blonde!” The frame on the flag makes it a lot more elegant.

This is a painting of the flag. Pretty adorable.

If you’ve ever been to California, you know most of our time is spent on the back of vintage vehicles, driving around clad in Levi’s, quoting Walt Whitman whilst enjoying the vast natural landscape of our great Golden State. Because none of us have jobs or responsibilities, we spend the entirety of our lives celebrating our freedom whilst listening to Joni Mitchell.

And so when I found an awesome vintage California flag I was excited. I hung it in my bedroom above my bed.

My boyfriend was all “I think we should clean this.” And I was all “Duh. Like me, the fact that this flag is dirty and tattered is what makes it so cool.” This flag has been loved so much, has flown high above a California schoolhouse, and now lives happily above my bed.

I love the face the bear is making. He’s like, “Oh my god did you know Rianna’s name is actually pronounced “REE-ANNA?” Gross. I liked her so much more when I thought it was pronounced “REE-ONNA.” It’s a scientific fact that our state bear is totally sassy.

Each night, before I go to bed, I pledge allegiance to the flag of California. Mainly because it provides so many wonderful decorative applications.

Love,
Orlando

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Filed under Around The Apartment, California, Californiatimez, Collecting, Interiors

Saying Goodbye To An Old Friend

Dear Diary,

Yesterday I donated my car to KPCC, my favorite radio station. This is quite an easy thing to do and I highly recommend it if you A) have a car to get rid of and B) care about supporting news that isn’t sensationalistic propaganda (i.e. most mainstream news). The car was still drivable but needed so many expensive repairs that keeping it no longer made sense. And because it needed so many repairs I worried about the karmic repercussions of selling it to an individual buyer. Thus, I found myself yesterday morning clearing the car of all my belongings, shoving them all into those large blue Ikea bags. At which point I started crying.  Ugly sobbing all over the place. Tears of absolute loss and sorrow.

At first I didn’t really understand what I was so upset about. The car was clearly no longer practical for me and was sucking my already starving bank account even drier. But this is the irrationality of our relationship with objects. My 1999 Cross Country Volvo Station Wagon was no longer just my car. It was a trusted old friend. One that sometimes let me down but was always there for me.

I’ve been driving the Volvo since I was 16. My parents bought the car my senior year of high school and to me it was the epitome of Northern California glamour. With its supple leather interior, dazzling moonroof, and keyless entry, it was the most luxurious car my family had ever owned. Because my disgusting high school was a 1.5 hour drive from my house, I often ended up taking that car to school (my own car was a 20-year-old Volvo station wagon that couldn’t be trusted in the snow). The drive to school was treacherous, down the curvy Highway 140, a scenic highway nestled in the Merced Canyon. Whenever I drove that car I felt protected and safe, as Volvos are known for their sturdy structure and endless safety features.

In the years I lived back East for college and New York the Volvo was my California car, the car I drove every time I came home. In this period it represented home, familiarity. For native Californians living in New York there is nothing more comforting than returning to California and driving on our beautiful country roads, going to the grocery market and parking right in front without having to worry about schlepping your groceries ten humid blocks to get home. The Volvo represented this kind of Californian mobility, liberation from the cramped New York lifestyle.

My parents passed down the Volvo to me in 2010, after a year of tragic occurrences, the year my nephew died, the year my best friend lost her father. 2010 was the saddest year of my life. It was also the year I was cast to be on an HGTV show called Secrets From A Stylist. A job that changed my life completely while introducing me to one of my closest friends. My parents gave me the car because I needed it for work. Because I had just come back from New York and had no car. And because I was just recovering from an incredibly frustrating year of career downturns and personal loss.

I received the Volvo when I really needed it, and my parents act of giving at that time is representative to me of all they worked to give me my whole life, the amazing childhood they provided me. The excursions we took together, the freedom to talk about what we wanted to talk about, the encouragement to follow our interests. The car was just another example of the care I received throughout my childhood. And for this reason the car was no longer just a car. The car was love.

When objects stop being objects and start being the physical manifestation of relationships and history, getting rid of them can be incredibly painful. This is probably one of the reasons so many people struggle with hoarding, fear of losing the past, history. So today I am mourning the loss of an old friend and family member. I miss the Volvo.

Moving on to brighter territory, I did something I never thought I’d do. I bought a Prius. True, they are totally ugly. And true, they don’t have the cargo space that a Volvo has. But they get amazing gas mileage. As someone who drives a ton for work, I’m saving a lot on gas money while doing something small to show I care about the impending doom of global warming. Plus, my Prius is my favorite color, navy blue:

I don’t think I’ll ever have the personal attachment for the Prius that I had for the Volvo. The Prius wasn’t there for me in high school and it never welcomed me back from New York. But the Volvo will always represent my teens and twenties. And now that I’m 30, it’s time to move on to the next chapter.

Love,
Orlando

15 Comments

Filed under California, Californiatimez, Design, Objective Affection

Around The Apartment: Let’s Paint Something!

Dear Diary,

Lately I’ve been working at home a lot. Sometimes I love working from home. I can drink coffee all day whilst listening to NPR and not wearing any pants. But sometimes it makes me feel like a crazy person. The late summer heat makes me feel restless and being alone all day with only Facebook chat and the crisp, clear voice of Lachshmi Singh to keep me company can totally isolating. Thus, I’ve decided to go back to my roots as a lunatic artist. I figure if I have to be alone all day I might as well become a weirdo recluse that makes dumb paintings and spends the rest of the day rearranging pots of succulents. That is pretty much what I do anyway so this wont be a major change of pace for me.

This is what my dining room looks like right now. Mess. Kind of like your mom.

According to my scientific calculations, I like the color blue.

My glamourous (and clever) friend World-Famous Interior Designer Matthew Lanphier had this canvas in his living room, waiting for me to paint it. In the interim, he put some vinyl lettering on it and hung it above his sofa. Let this be a lesson to everyone. If you don’t have an artist friend you can manipulate into making a painting for you, just think of something witty and write it on a blank canvas with vinyl letters (you can get these at any hardware store). This will make people think you are smart and popular and everyone will want to be your friend.

For some unknown reason my new thing is painting geometric shapes and juxtaposing them against organic, watercolored fields of color. I have no idea what this means but it probably has something to do with the fact that I was raised in the middle of the woods but always wanted to have pores so tiny that it looked like my skin was made out of plastic.

This is what my bedroom looked like until this morning. I was never really satisfied with the composition of the art on the wall but I didn’t know what to do so I just lived with it. Kind of like Katie Holmes lived with Tom Cruise for five years before she ran screaming and flailing from the house.

I used to be obsessed with gallery walls and wanted to put them everywhere. But I’m sort of getting tired of them and now I just want enormous paintings everywhere. Collected gallery walls have their place, but you just can’t beat a big ass painting.

This is what the bedroom looks like now. I made this painting for Matthew Lanphier but now I kind of want it for myself. I hate it when that happens.

I had to put the painting in my bedroom because I loved it so much I wanted to sleep with it. Wink.

I’m also experimenting with having this gigantic cactus in my bedroom. I know it’s terrifying, but I love how sculptural it is. Plus, I grew it from a baby and I’m really proud of how big it’s gotten. I’ve had it since I was sixteen. Which wont be any consolation when it falls over on my face one night while I’m sleeping and I have to wear a Phantom of the Opera mask for the rest of my life.

How pretty is this succulent? The bright color makes me so happy I want to bite it in half.

A fun fact about me is that I am dating a convict and he stole this succulent and gave it to me. Part of that story is true (but I wont tell which part).

Like most modern homosexuals, I like to casually display books and plants to let people know that I not only love literature, I also love nature.

I made this piece for my kitchen. You really can’t go wrong with a pink painting. Ever.

I found this mask at Goodwill for $5 and fell in love with it. I have no idea where it’s from because I’m not a professional anthropologist but it looks like it could be from Mexico.

Perhaps I haven’t solved the issues of boredom and isolation that come with working from home, but at least I have a few more things to ogle while I do. And what is the point of life if it isn’t to sit by yourself, ogling the objects around you that will never be able to replace actual human companionship?

Love,
Orlando

24 Comments

Filed under Around The Apartment, Californiatimez, Collecting, Design, Interiors

Shopping, Staring, and Sweating in San Francisco

Dear Diary,

My baby niece is the world’s cutest baby. It’s been scientifically proven and I have many pictures as evidence if you don’t believe me. I went up north for her first birthday about a month ago and enjoyed a weekend of family, fun, and adventures in the Bay Area. I grew up calling San Francisco “the city,” we went there all the time. So whenever I go back it feels a little like going home. It feels so comfortable and familiar there. My brother, his wife, and the my adorable niece live in Sonoma County (about an hour north of the city). I spent a few days up in Wine Country with them before heading back down to San Francisco for shopping, staring, and sweating my way all over town (Sidenote: it was actually warm there. Which never happens during the summer months in San Francisco).

I stumbled upon a store called Monument in the Mission, which turned out the be the most beautiful store in the whole world. Tons of vintage pieces, all restored to perfection.

Monument has a store on 1stdibs if you’d like to see their amazing inventory.

Harrington Galleries also had some cool stuff. Like the glamourous chair below.

This wonderful tansu was at Therapy.

Tradesmen had a ridiculously cool Japanese fish windsock. Unfortunately, that store is never open and everything in there costs $500,000. Sad.

FSC Barber Shop had beautiful “Apothecary” typography in the window.

Did I find anything at this store? NO. Did I like their sign? Yes.

Voyager was a lovely store filled with fancy travel items, notebooks, and clothing. While we were in there, some dot com dude was trying on $500 hippie pants asking the sales associate if they made his butt look big. It was amazing.

I met up with some of my friends at Daytime Realness, which is a super fun party filled with drag queens, hipsters, and haircuts just ugly enough to be cool. It was ridiculously fun and I would go back over and over again if I lived in San Francisco.

How amazing is this disgusting sweater? I’m serious. I want it.

No trip to San Francisco is complete without a ride on BART. Especially if you get lost like I did. Luckily I ended up in the scariest part of Oakland, which was fun.

After all the shopping, playing, and loving, my sister took me for a walk at one of the most picturesque hills I’ve ever seen in my life, Bernal Heights Summit.

The trip to the city warmed my heart and was filled with LOLs, ROFLs, and even a few BRBs. Fun!

Love,
Orlando

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Filed under California, Californiatimez, Familytimez, Vacationtimez, Vacationz

Tourlando: My-So Called Neighborhood

Dear Hollywood Hills West,

You’re a weird place. Kind of Hollywood. Kind of West Hollywood. Kind of Los Angeles. I moved into this part of town because I wanted to find a place as green as West Hollywood, but without all that appletini-scented-gay-gutter-bar-trash you find in the heart of WeHo (sorry, you know it’s true). Thus, I moved a neighborhood I thought was Hollywood. Only to find out months later that it was really called Hollywood Hills West. What attracted me to this place is that everything is so sprawling and mid-century. We have tons of eco-unfriendly lawns, palm trees up the ying-yang, and lots of pretty tropical vegetation that would probably be more at home in the Amazon than Los Angeles.

I knew I loved this neighborhood when I spotted my building for the first time, glowing a mint green color that warms my heart, calling to me like a siren.

This is the building I see out my window every morning as I wake up, wide-eyed and ready to take the world by storm (as soon as I drink 17 cups of coffee and whine for an hour about being tired).

I hate this color of brick, but that doesn’t stop me from loving this font. You can really do a lot by just adding pretty numbers to your building (stay tuned for more exciting examples!).

According to evidence I have collected, the owners of Breezy Freeze Snowball Company live near me. Jealous? (Sidenote: I’ve never had a Breezy Freeze Snowball but I can tell you based on the color of their van that it’s delicious).

In my neighborhood, quirky fonts  are the norm. Boring fonts, GO HOME!

This building is one of my favorites because it’s so geometric, intimidating, and stark. Kind of like a Stanley Kubrick movie.

Look how scary and intimidating the entry is. I want to live in there.

Again, not a fan of the bricks but you can’t deny those clean lines. If this were my building I’d probably paint those bricks white or just put concrete over them. That’s terrible but I hate bricks like that. I know, I get it, totally ruins the historical accuracy of it but it could be SO much  prettier if the surface was as simple and elegant as the architecture itself.

I love any building covered in plants. Unless the plant is poison ivy.

I moved to Los Angeles because I wanted to live in a city where I could see trees. I get depressed if I don’t see trees. Also, it’s nice to have flowering trees scenting the air, distracting you from the fact that you are breathing in more pollution than anyone in the rest of the United States of America.

I love these guard lions on the house up the street. It’s kind of ridiculous because the house is so cute and non-intimidating, but that’s part of the joke.

I also love how cute little houses like this that would cost $150,000 in a normal place are worth like 6 million dollars in LA. Okay that’s probably an exaggeration, but you get my point. Someday, when I’m 57 years old, I hope to save up enough money to buy a dumpster to convert into an efficient and charming home for me and my 16 cats to live in.

You know you’ve made it when there is so much vegetation in front of your door that you can barely see it.

This is the house. I want it. It’s squared-off Spanish shape makes me happy, scared, and a little turned on.

These geniuses painted their house an awesome color of yellow, shielded it with plants, and then parked their totally Gay Jeep in front of it. Triple win!

This color of grey totally heightens this otherwise unremarkable home. God that was so rude. If whoever owns this unremarkable home is reading this, I apologize. Also, can I have your house? It was just called unremarkable on a very important blog so you should probably move.

One of the most exciting attractions in my neighborhood is this ridiculously huge hedge. I think they put it up to protect residents from the rowdy people in line at the Laugh Factory (across the street). Added benefit: we are all protected from the ugly building behind the hedge (it’s supes gross).

Every time I pass the hedge, I think of a book I read a lot when I was a child, The Garden of Abdul Gasazi by Chris Van Allsburg. It’s filled with beautiful illustrations.

See! More zany typography. It makes the building so much hipper than it would be otherwise.

Giant tropical plant, HAY!

This building is disgusting and falling apart. But check out that aqua! Yum!

I think this building might be ugly. But I love the simplicity of the lines. So maybe it’s beautiful? Help me.

That pretty tree looks like it jumped out of a Japanese painting. Glamourtree.

This building has been my one true love for a while. It’s yet another example of how a good font can really change a whole building. Sure, the lines are classic and the beautiful stone slabs look expensive. But really it’s the lovely font, those strong 5‘s and that satisfying 0. If you look at this building from the side it’s just another apartment building with weird balconies and stucco siding. But the front makes it look like the most luxurious apartment building on the planet.

So there you have it. That’s my hood. I love it here and I’m never moving. Until I save up all that money to buy that dumpster I want.

Love,
Orlando

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Filed under Around The Apartment, California, Californiatimez, Hollywood Diary, I Love LA, The Golden State

Turning 30 in the Woods!

Dear Diary,

I had a little bit of a hard time turning 30 this year. The thought terrified me, chilling me to my bones. But it’s not what you think. You’re probably thinking I was scared of getting old. That’s not the case at all. I love old people way more than I love young people. What I was really afraid of is the fact that my life had not yet lived up to what I thought it was supposed to as a twentysomething in Los Angeles. To understand why I don’t feel that I’ve lived up to my full potential as an Angeleno, one must first understand where I gained my understanding of what it means to be an adult. Here’s a hint:

That’s right people. Melrose Place. I used to watch this show with my sister when I was ten. This was where I gained my understanding of adulthood. I always thought by the time I was 30 I’d be just like Amanda Woodward (Heather Locklear’s character). I’d be a high-powered advertising executive who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. I’d drive around in a red convertible, saying witty, mean things to people in the car next to me. I’d push people down the stairs if they got in my way. I’d get in dramatic fights that always ended with someone being pushed into a glamourous pool. Strangely, I didn’t turn out to be Amanda Woodward. And how disappointing is that? I’m just, like, a normal human being that lives in an apartment and talks too frequently about my feelings.

Additionally, planning a 30th birthday party in Los Angeles is about as complicated as planning a wedding in Texas (if you know any Texans you know how much they like weddings there). The expectations are extremely high. There really are only a few options, the most obvious being a crazy gay pool party at some rich dude’s house. Like this:

As tempting as crazy gay pool parties are to me, I wanted to do something a little more intimate. With that in mind, I planned a trip to my homeland, Yosemite National Park. Guests included old friends from my East Coast college life and friends from my newish life in Los Angeles. I could not have asked for better company. The drive from Los Angeles to Yosemite is about six hours, but I normally do it in five and a half (we locals know some tricks about how to speed up the trip).

The drive to Yosemite, up Interstate 5, is one of the loveliest drives on earth, with rolling hills drenched in that just-right hue of California gold.

Just outside Fresno on the way to the park is this patriotic barn, which is one of the most genius creations in history. I can just imagine the people painting it, some of them dressed as pilgrims, others as indians, singing the national anthem as they painted the flag onto an old decrepit barn. It warms my American heart (Sidenote: I’m secretly extremely patriotic. Seriously).

Below is the house where I grew up. It’s about a half mile from the base of Yosemite Falls. It’s a humble home, but for me it represents a very specific kind of glamour, the opportunity to walk outside your door and be in one of the most magical landscapes on the planet. A few images of the inside of the house can be viewed here.

The view from the hammock in the back yard.

One of my lovely friends enjoying the rope swing down the street.

We took a hike up the Mist Trail to the lovely Vernal Falls, along with, like, every single tourist in the whole entire world (sidenote: Yosemite is crowded in the summer, try Fall, Winter, or Spring for a quieter visit).

Because it was 88 degrees and we were hiking up a mountain, we took our shirts off. Also, we’re gay. Pictured here with me, World Famous Interior Designer Matthew Lanphier. Note to my father: I’m wearing a Giants cap. Happy now?

This is the Ahwahnee Hotel, the hotel I played in while I was growing up (my favorite trick was to convince tourists I was homeless). The Ahwahnee’s pastry chef made my delicious birthday cake (so rich and amazing I can still taste it).

In addition to providing delightful birthday cakes, the Ahwahnee is also a wonderful place to enjoy a ridiculously overpriced outdoor cocktail.

A fun fact about Gays is that we have internal sensors in our brains that naturally direct us toward beaches, even when we are 400 miles inland. Thus, we made our way to the sandy beaches of the Merced River, next to the Superintendent’s Bridge.

Once at the beach, we tried unsuccessfully to take outdoors-inspired profile pics. Another important fact about homosexuals is that 87% of their free time is spent attempting to take the perfect profile pic for facebook. It’s incredibly time-consuming and exhausting, but required unless you want to be socially ostracized.

This is the ugly beach about five minutes away from where I grew up. The water is freezing and I have never gotten in unless someone chased me in. True fact.

The only thing that even came close to meeting the beauty of Yosemite was my beautiful friends.

Once beaching was done, we headed home for a birthday BBQ.

After a delicious meal of grilled steaks and vegetables, we moved on to birthday cake. My pretty sister and her fiancé were in from San Francisco for the weekend, a delightful birthday treat.

All things considered, my 30th was a smashing success. I may not be Amanda Woodward, running over old ladies while quipping about my immense wealth, but I do have the best friends and family on earth. And that’s not too shabby!

My only complaint is that the weekend was far too short. I feel like I blinked and it was over. This will be a lesson for me for my 31st birthday in Yosemite. Next year, I’m opting for a full week of Yosemite fun for my birthday, two days in paradise with friends and family is simply too short!

Love,
Orlando

5 Comments

Filed under Amazing Gays, California, Californiatimez, Environmentimez, Fun In Nature, Great Humans, Vacationtimez, Vacationz, Welcome to my home, Yosemite

Californiatimez: Hiking, Cactii, and the Most Amazing Plant Nursery on Earth

Dear Diary,

Last weekend, some gays and I decided to escape the madness that is LA Pride and head to the little town of Fillmore, California to take a hike and discover new things. Naturally, because we are 90z gays, we took a Jeep wrangler, with the top down. I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced riding in the back of a Jeep Wrangler, but a word to the wise: don’t ride in the back when it’s cold outside. It’s the coldest you’ll ever be in your whole life. I froze to death and it was really sad. But then I came back to life when the car stopped moving.

Fillmore is an interesting town. And by “interesting” I mean terrifying. It’s the kind of place where you expect to hear dueling banjos play as soon as your gay car enters the town square. I know it sounds like I’m being super judgmental. But that’s just because I am super judgmental (I learned this recently in a personality test). Also, I went to high school in a similarly terrifying town (Mariposa, California) so I know what those places are like and that there is good reason for my overwhelming fears. All this aside, Fillmore has some wonderful sights to see, including this vacant lot:

And lots of pretty (and haunted) abandoned trains. YAY!

And a pretty high school that looks like this:

My high school looked like this:

Coincidence? I think not. I have a lot of fond memories of high school. Mainly of the day I graduated and never went back ever again.

The main reason for our trip to Fillmore was a hike to Tar Creek. The vistas were beautiful, the air fresh, and the hike delightful.

The hike features two main swimming holes, both with ledges for jumping and slides for sliding.

When the opportunity to jump off a 20′ rock into a pool of water arose, the boys got separated from the men. And by that I mean that I was too scared to jump off the rocks because I have a secret fear of heights. So I suppose that makes me a boy and not a man. Which is fine by me.

This is the second, higher, more terrifying waterfall. The guys I was with jumped off it while I ate beef jerkey.

There was even a giardia-laced waterfall to bath in whilst thinking about the meaning of life. It’s a scientific fact that no Gay can resist the urge to frolic in an outdoor waterfall.

The surprise highlight of the trip was the amazing cactus store we discovered on the way home. Cactus Mart sits on the side of the freeway and is the the most amazing cactus nursery in the whole entire world.

The prices were pretty awesome. Definitely worth the drive.

Someday, I want to live in a greenhouse that looks like this.

Our trip to Fillmore was filled with fun and freedom. I’d highly recommend the Tar Creek hike to anyone (just make sure not to go when it’s too hot because there’s, like, no shade anywhere). And for people who love plants, Cactus Mart is kind of a dreamland. Now if only I had a yard for all these cacti…

Love,
Orlando

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Filed under Amazing Gays, California, Californiatimez, The Golden State