FHC’s resurrected blog

FHC takes risks

Still on my Wallet-thinning habits (endless topic isn’t it ?), I received yesterday an advance copy of the “2005 Annual Summary of Charges” from my Bank. This little booklet is called to become a Best-Seller on the black market as it includes amazing figures on my spending patterns such as the detail of my $4,848.72 restaurant charges. I am going to analyze it in the days to come and will keep you updated.

Two random thoughts of the day: i) if you’d all articulate like journalists on NPR you’d be much easier to understand; ii) following Vanity Fair’s article of this month on Lapo Elkann should I ask LL to get me a FIAT hoodie for my Valentine’s gift ? (hint: YES) or will people assume I am an addict ? Talking about sex with transexuals and NPR, I accepted to go see Transamerica at the E Street theater this evening with Ari S. and David G. (my definition or a risky evening: going to see a movie on transsexuals in the ghetto with gender confused friends).

I decided to add the prettyboysclub to my daily blog visit, not sure it is very good for my reputation but it will certainly make my life easier as I visit it quite often on my spare time and even use it as a hub towards other blogs I have some personal and confidential interest in [appalled readership’s jaw drops in silent shock]. Ok I feel slightly ashamed. While I was at it, I also replaced DClush with Why I hate DC as Rusty is moving there.

The Honourable Kevin P Watson cancelled lunch on me today (I quote: “hurry up and confirm before the whole week fills up.........I'm in high demand!” (sic)) probably because William van Cutsem and Alexander Spencer are visiting DC this week or something. Old Etonians/Oxfordians friendships… even more cliquish than the Skull & Bones Yale ones. This kind of rich kids club behavior just paves the way for unnecessary class conflicts. There is a pattern going on here.

FHC listens to NPR too

Yesterday night after I sent back LL to his boarding school, I decided to read Metroweekly in front of the fireplace with a nightcap (my idea of a nice Sunday evening). This constitutes another proof that I still am very much concerned about what’s happening in the DC scene even if I indeed devoted 75% of my week end to activities which included straight people with graduate degrees and amazing jobs and dreams. As I was browsing through the many interesting advertising for dentistry work (“A Good dentist could change your life”) and real estate agents [what’s confusing now is that local real estate agent pose for dentists advertising and vice versa], I stumbled over this part of the interview of the young idealist Coverboy of the week which shocked me:

§      MW: What’s your greatest fear?

§      Devin: Losing my hair

I am not homophobic but what about long term rates increase, anthrax, the avian flu, violent death, gay bashing, the upcoming California Earthquake, Condi Rice, running into a hurricane, Google, being buried alive or the unknown? Mind you, I am not saying that because I am myself balding but …. Where's God? Is that really what Caucasian gay kids are scared of? No wonder our cause is making little progress lately. Young people at Cobalt really don't know what's out there besides balding. I suggest a study tour for all 17^th streets twinks.

Talking about superficial gay freaks, you will enjoy the enclosed picture of my roommate Kevin D. wearing his mud mask. The caption being “Luxuriating at adam's in Baltimore. My mud mask burns and smells slightly of fish but guarantees to make me more beautiful. Go mask, go!”

Back to straight educated people, everybody I ran into this week-end mentioned that they listen to NPR in the morning. I had already read somewhere that NPR audience is smartish, urban, liberal and….dorky which completely defines what FHC is. Therefore, I set up my audio system on NPR this morning and …they indeed really cater to artsy yuppies.

In other almost intellectual news, LL forwarded to us a really bouncy article on the latest book of my good friend BHL, “American Vertigo Traveling America in the Footsteps of Tocqueville” whom I saw again with his weird-looking wife at the airport last Sunday on his way to Chicago I suspect. I once traveled next to him in the plane and found him quite unbearable and pretentious. Strangely I had not visited Kia’s blog for months and while I was away she turned in a Jake Gyllenhaal's obsessed freak.

I Like Black People More than You and I'll Prove It

Disclaimer: I don't even know who that kid is whatsoever. Your buddy for life, FHC

Dear Readers,

It’s been nearly two weeks since I’ve been permitted to blog – and although I begged and begged when FHC was away, I wasn’t allowed to take the helm of le blog on my own.  Apparently, I’m reckless and untrustworthy.

I spent the weekend here in DC, and it really makes me wonder why I’m planning on moving back here this summer and when I’m done with school.  I mean, first of all, there are approximately 7 trendy restaurants in the entire city, none of which take reservations and all of which had hostesses who looked a little bit too gleeful when they said, “Oh, a party of five?  That will be an hour at minimum, and probably much much longer.”  Oh, sorry, that’s not entirely correct.  One of the trendy restaurants, Logan Tavern, does take reservations.  But only for parties of 6 or more, and only between 5-7pm and after 10.30pm.  Thanks, really helpful.  Fortunately, all these restaurants have learned to cater to the homosexual community by giving us little buzzers that operate as far as Crew Club to let you know when your table’s ready.  Because “notification” is really what these long, vibrating sticks are for anyway.  The restaurant situation has become so bad that restaurants that aren’t trendy, cool or hip also have eon-long waits.  The hostess at Alero last night practically spit on me when I told her how many people were in our group.  She started taking bribes from the starving masses, at which point I had to point out to “Carlotta” that she plays the lowest role in the restaurant food chain.  Another problem with DC is the number of gay men, which I estimate to be approximately 23.  I know, this town is supposed to be so gay friendly, and really it is, for the two dozen of us who live here.  Have you ever noticed that it’s the same gays every place you go?  Could that many of them really have identical twins?  It would be bad enough if all 23 of us were all friends, but of course we’re totally socially competitive monsters: The least gay friendly people in DC are the gays themselves.  In fact, the reason Alero was so crowded last night is because 18 of the cool gays had decided to have some sort of underground sex party there, and it was so A-List that even FHC himself didn’t score an Evite. 

Meanwhile, FHC are happy to be in our clique of 2.  We rented a flexcar yesterday and drove to Bethesda to do grocery shopping.  Even though there’s a grocery store approximately 50 meters from FHC’s, he wanted to get acquainted with the “suburban” living, which mean grocery shopping around domesticated women trying to balance strollers with shopping carts.  The suburban scene is completely foreign to FHC: he couldn’t stop staring at a black man who was letting his children run wild in the produce section, and couldn’t even come up with a good excuse when the father accusingly asked, “What the hell are you looking at, Frenchie?”  Which brings me to the last part of today’s blog – how racist are you?  Apparently some Harvard psychologists (it’s French, so you have to pronounce the “p”) have discovered the perfect method to test for anti-black bias.  You’ll all be glad to know that “[my] data suggest little to no automatic preference between Black American and White American.”  It’s funny, though because they didn’t test me on my attitudes towards Negroes, which I think might have produced a different result.  Flawed study much?  Anyway, you should all take it and post your results in the comments section.  Most racist gets a free lunch with an FHC staff member of your color preference.

We’re off to take the bus back to NYC, where fortunately all our neighborhoods are segregated based on sexual orientation. 

Kisses from NW DC,

LL

Niggaz in low-lows, pursuin mo' hoes, then go home !

Today I decided that I needed to find an answer to a question I have had for too long: why do all mexico-american ride chromed mini-bicycles in that city ? It looks a tiny bit silly to me. Is that a cultural/tribal/gang thing? is it because they steal them from midgets or smurfs? Aren’t they less visible? Don’t they ever get crushed by cars? It took me a good hour to figure out that these cute little things are called lowriders and they even have a magazine I just subscribed to (it mostly caters to young Latino males but not exclusively… white gay Frenchmen and Asian are welcomed it indicates). Anyway I eventually learnt through my research that “in Chicano culture lowriders are much more than just a mode of transportation. It's also a sign of success.” and also that “Lowriders are laying a claim—this is my city, my street, as much as anyone else’s”. I gathered that lowriders (we call ourselves Low-lows but you can use the term lowriders) are usually young hard-working gangsters. I might spend some time this week end thinking how I could customize some of our stuff at home so it’s lower to the ground and Kevin D. feels more at ease.

Since we lost our cable in a bitter dispute, I have been watching most of my TV from Malcontent but when I see this little clip on Rhonetta Johnson I really think that we should get cable back and I should learn Ebonics.

Ok enough. Have a good Week end….our friend LL is going to get in town soon.

Our lies are prettier than your truth !

Sometimes I wonder if you (this time meaning Americans of all sexual confessions) do not have an unhealthy obsession with truth. Moreover because you are such a gullible specie that it would be a crime not to lie to you. Who cares that Mr. Frey’s book is actually a fiction? (ironically he is accused to have lied about being a crackhead and spending time in jail) Should not Oprah get over it and concentrate on trying to get in the Hermes shop? Who is seeking truth on the Oprah Winfrey’s show? I remember that when I first came to the US (in my prime youth when I was gorgeous and full of energy), I was already amazed by the way plagiarism is punished in Colleges and how small lies can destroy political careers. The later particularly shocked me because I always thought that politics was actually the art of misrepresentation and hypocrisy – yet I was astonished when later on W managed to get away with his mass destruction weapons. The US has often deep contradictions: if you are a President you can lie on important topics such as war but not on blowjobs in the oval office. I actually believe that truth is always cliché; there is very rarely such a thing as “truth” besides perhaps in humor. The US really needs to get over this very moralistic approach to life and start chilling out. This truth obsession is probably what animated the dangerous pro-life fanatics on the mall I met on Monday: their church leader managed to convince them that they had found it while obviously no God would ever bestow truth on people who have no fashion sense whatsoever and believe that fried chicken is a delicatessen.

Another anecdotic proof that the French are getting fatter (via our dearest KMZ): yesterday at Results I weighted 148 pounds before my diner. Well maybe we are getting as fat as you are but guess what? we still do not beat our grandmothers to force them to buy us beer at 16 because we can actually buy some legally.

While LL was “meeting” with his “negotiating partner” whatever that means, I have been swamped with work (I even consider going to work tomorrow which was not planned at all as I have to get the mansion ready for LL's arrival) and constantly interrupted by random people so I ended up in the worst of moods. It takes so much effort to get rid of unwanted visitors in the professional world.

Finally, in non-related news, I visited Jason on friendster who is a very serious candidate for my back-up plan list. My only worry is that he might not be jewish.

Is FHC trapped in a Roman Catholic guilt trip ?

As I came (exceptionally) strolling in the office a little after 10:30 a.m. perched on my black stiletto heels, I was thinking that it could have been a joyful morning if it wasn’t for the tremendous guilt I experienced. Guilt is our personal drama (meaning us the Roman Catholics), it spoils our best moments.

First let’s put the record straight, my late arrival was not entirely due (as I heard) to last night’s hangover. Indeed, I shared a bottle of Châteauneuf du Pape with Alex A. in the early evening to accompany the roasted Penguin he had beautifully cooked (a family Portuguese recipe he claims). Later on, I also admit that I mecanically drowned my boredom at Cobalt with many uncalled for Gin & Tonics. Btw, I hate to complain but nobody flirted with me yesterday besides a very undeserving Hungarian hunchback with a red sweater whom I suspect to be a Jehovah’s witness as he whispered weird stuff in my ears during our brief interaction such as “…Ah the truly amazing gift the Lord bestowed on us…”. I would have pursued the relationship if he hadn’t called me a “crypto-fascist bourgeois pig” at one point which kind of turned me off. The place was filled with obese local realtors, fashion distressed faghags and Chilean male prostitutes and I felt like usual right at home.

No, the main reason of my lateness is that I got some kind of a haircut this morning (at least I wasn’t at the bathhouse). This was a really stupid thing to do I admit, because there is nothing worse than spending the first 45 minutes of your day contemplating your own face scarred by years of alcohol, poor choice, drugs, gastronomic mistakes, child abuse and homelessness while commenting silently on your receding hairline (my very tactful hairdresser asked "hmmm.. Have you ever thought of getting a toupee?....") and the puffiness of your gaze. I tried to close my eyes most of the time but I felt that my hairdresser was resenting it which made me feel even more guilty.

Anyway all that to say, that I was in position of feeling quite rebellious this morning as I skipped a few school hours but instead I got all panicky over the fact that my lack of self-discipline clearly posed a threat to society and was somehow unethical. I was even thinking about closing my door to whip myself when I would get to the office. Thank god while I was waiting for my haircut, I read in the paper that some Senators had played hooky on the Alito hearings for extended periods of time too. Clearly I have reached a point in my life where I need to be more experimental with the rules, etiquette and morale standards I have been taught during the last 27 years. Would it only be for complex political purposes and setting the example for future genrations. Bold step No 2: I won’t say “thank you” to the Safeway cashier during grocery shopping on Friday. Bold step No 3: I will only pay my credit card bill one week before the deadline.

This is for you donkey lovers out there !

I've been trying to respond to some of my readers increasing concerns regarding the donkey photoshoot which took place last week. This is a communiqué from Eeyore and all his little friends from the Hundred Acre Woods: “FHC monitored all animal participants’ mood, well being and sexual needs during the shoot. Additionally no animal was hurt or abused during the making of this show and it was also not our intent to insult any ass out there”. I hope everybody feels better and that you will put away these unnecessary Animal Protection League and Humane Society reports: we can solve this together as a family. Animal lovers are sooo petit-bourgeois.

This is certainly not going to help Stefano B.’s legitimate claim (reinforced by some of Alex A. previous comments) that my blog lacks depth. Therefore, I’d like to introduce a month long serious debate on FHC’s resurrected blog: the polar ice caps: "in favor" or "against"? Please send your answers to these questions to Tristan, Pedro and Maria. Deadline is February 24^th, 2005. You could win a miniature dinosaur.

In blogosphere related news, my dear friend MFCBP has a new glamorous blog called “sleepless in Lisbon” (the title sounds osé to me) and written in English! Finally we will finally be able to know what MFCBP meant in Fredintheusa. I am also glad to say that Adrien is still alive as he is my back up plan in case of a left victory, a global tsunami or if LL dumps me.

Talking about infidelity, I might go to Cobalt to see Alexis C. tonight after having diner at Alex A.’s house. Alexis, who is visiting from Canada this week, used to oversee a little smuggling business with the French Embassy duty free goods shop which fueled Kevin D.’s alcoholism with cheap liquor for years until Alexis left us. This deserves a little exception to my rule of being in bed by 10:30 on weekdays, so I can get up at 8 with non-puffy eyes.

HBP is out, Posh is back !

As I was running at lunchtime on the mall (that’s what I like with FHC, he keeps his promises). I was unlucky enough to find myself surrounded by a so-called pro-life demonstration. I had some impulsive distaste for these hordes of primitive peasants dragging their handicapped children in the rain as a token of their curious totalitarianism. They were carrying eloquent banners which read moderate and thoughtful messages such as “Abortion brought curses onto America” (I always believed those were due to homosexuality and felt quite reassured). My thought was that it must indeed be very hard to be a Republican and have to cater to such an angry and ignorant self-righteous, pageant competing, super-bowl watching crowd. I will not even comment on their outfits. W. must sometimes feel that he is the modern Ponce Pilate. It is the unfortunate destiny of all demagogic elite.

I was planning to tell you about some of my recent adventures but I completely forgot them besides the fact that I started crying over “Just like Heaven” with Reese Witherspoon in the plane which was really embarrassing as I was seated not far away from a colleague. I shouted “"CONJECTIVITIS!” but had to ask the flight attendant to give me a big hug. I really wonder why I become so sensitive when I get in the air…

In other internet related news, I spent part of my morning running some Googlefights and obtained interesting results. I really enjoyed reading Vividblurry’s and Fagat’s entries on the Hot Boy Posse (I knew I was missing something in my internet isolation). The entire debate is actually completely irrelevant and obsolete as I read in Time magazine that Posh (Posh like in sophisticated and classy/Nautica advertising not like David Beckam’s Posh) is back and that “it’s ok to be high born again”. Clearly those people are anything but classy and do not even belong in an Apple Center (we know because FHC is French and they are automatically posh). Let’s just pray that it makes it to the gay bars in time and that gays start thinking they are better than everyone else cuz they went to boarding school and not because they have a hot body!. Perhaps with Euan Blair’s arrival in DC as he is expected to intern with the Republicans for three months.

Also thanks to Ollie (photo) and KMZ for their welcome home notes...we appreciate your support.

Miss me yet ? FHC returns and he is really angry at YOU

Isn’t FHC some kind of an amazing and modern Robinson Crusoë? Isolating himself more or less intentionally from all modern technologies for more than 5 days to get to know himself a bit more  (even if some could claim he had hidden motives). It might be an extremely complex concept to grasp for you, wealthy westerner gender-confused blog-reading overpaid spoilt brats, but there are still areas in the World where people are not able to access CNN.com five times a day, check out the latest beach pictures of Ricky Martin in his tiniest trunks and have no i-pods. I wish I could be as unsophisticated, unworldly, uncultured, money-oriented and rapacious as you are but as you can see from the enclosed picture I am adventurous, have huge responsibilities and do not fear any wild animal. However, this digital isolation was quite painful and I have to admit that from time to time, I would turn-on my computer and click anyway on the “view wireless network” just in case the whole f**king technology gap had been filled during the night.

I felt quite destabilized as I wasn’t able to read any of the daily reports usually required from LL when I travel and he is left alone to the NYC predators we all know too well. I quote one of his report I just read for your utter delight: ”a day in my life without FHC is like a blank page of emptiness and loneliness”…and a few lines below “F., said to me, “I had a crush on you all during college.””…wh*re…this blank page got stained pretty quickly, didn’t it now ?. Neither was I able to grant him the many “exceptional going out” requests that must fill my inbox right now with probably a disastrous impact on his social life as well his extra-marital affair with Fagat. I lived in constant angst over all the internet events I was missing: my stocks were probably plummeting while all my friends and colleagues were wondering what happened to their witty and slightly handsome French friend. Let alone the fact that I could not access any pornographic imagery during that period and as a consequence had no other recourse than constant adultery during these five days. Those who love me will understand and use the train.

All in all, I was in constant angst during the trip thinking I had lost my precious readership, jeopardized my fragile yet enjoyable relationship, imperiled my balance and waist line (not directly because of the Internet shortage though – rest assured that the plan is to go for a run at lunch time as soon as tomorrow. FHC will never surrender to physical ballooning), was not able to monitor the H5N1 for my fearless readership (someone has to) and endangered my already minuscule savings

Apparently I was only wrong for my readership. Not only did my four readers continued their charitable daily visits (we still deeply appreciate your patronage here at FHC’s) but I actually registered a new user, Bryan, even if deep inside I know it might just be a nom de plume for dearest LL. I’d like to take this opportunity to thank Frenchbenj for sending me an e-mail showing clear sign that someone worried for me in the states instead of partying like a rock star at Hiro over my death.

Is FHC a sciolist, a bottom feeder or both ?

While in New York we suffered from a terrible cold wave totally unexpected. LL and I being very fragile and delicate creatures, whose gender is now and then not clear, we stayed home and agonizingly watched a third of the Dolce Vita as well a fourth of Barry Lyndon. I got tired twice of pretending to enjoy these monuments of Cinema culture. It actually constituted my latest desperate attempt to make of us an intellectual/philosopher/poet New Yorkee couple. As soon as I step in that city I identify with Woody Allen and regret my own intellectual laziness and my lack of taste for anything which requires a little capacity to reflect or contemplate. After all, the latest book I attempted to read, “A million little pieces”, I cowardly abandoned after hardly 30 pages under the fallacious excuse that the book was untrue. And today, while we were brunching with Fagat and KMZ, I caught myself quoting about four times the latest issue of Vanity Fair. My ancestors included a handful of writers, semi-public figures and collaborationists and I was always under the (false) impression that all gays were expected to be intellectuals (Oscar Wilde, Mathew Rush, Jean Cocteau, Truman Capote, Da Vinci Code and Sean Hayes to only name a few). It is painful for me to admit that I cannot stand to my sexual and familial heritage: not only do I date half a jew but I consider that Brokeback Mountain is an intellectual movie, found Syriana to be “awfully complex”, and the only reason my blog is semi-correctly spelt is because of Word automatic spellcheck. My only satisfaction is that, when I wear glasses, I can give the appearance of intellectualism for a mere 10 minutes and that my lack of knowledge is often hidden by my foreign status. I am not chic but I am a snob, I am not an intellectual but I am a poser. Get your hands off me !

I am now on my way to JFK airport to board a plane which will eventually take me to an unnamed place where a famous automobile race is expected to end tomorrow. I will do my best to keep you updated on my interesting endeavors and sexual experiences with locals as much as this country infrastructure allows me to (which might very well be not at all). This does not mean in anyway that I have stopped to love you and hope you will find the strength to wait for my return. For the FHC himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of ...