National Joe Day.

(via Joemygod)

We here at Spatagram are committed to the publicizing of silly holidays. In fact Melonball Thursday is right around the

corner. It's just before the Resurrection if you track the days on a calendar sold by the your local Church. In the vain of Melonball Thursday and International Talk Like a Pirate Day

comes National Joe Day. Evidently today has nothing to do with a penchant for coffee. Today has to do with shaking off your old name for whatever reason and go by the nam

e Joe.

Wake up on March 27 and introduce yourself to everyone as Joe. If you are a girl, Joe is short for your old name. If you are a boy, Joe is short for your old name as well. You are a new person. You are no longer strapped down to

that name you have been carrying around all these years. Throw off the old name and become Joe for a day. Make a journal entry talking about your feelings about your own name. People always attach meaning to certain names and when you don't fit those meanings, it leaves you wanting something else. Here is your day to

express who you think you are. Record it in a journal.

Now doesn't that sound intriguing. I once told an entire playground that my name was Paul, using my middle name to see how it made me feel. I also studied how it sounded in the air. And whether or not I could remember it when my name was called. I grew a new experiment on the heels of the Facebook surge of users changing their middle name to 'Hussein' to desensitize the word. I

added 'Rocco' as a middle name for Rocco DiSpirito, whom I have a very embarassing crush on. It was post election and people were done making statements and filling spaces for rent with Silliness. I don't shy away from the Silly, I walk hand in fin in it. I throw it a fish whenever do-able. I now get mail to Tony Rocco. It's changed my Life. Paul still exists but only for those that really know me. But in that vein today I unleash my Joe on the planet. Just Joeing ya here. I'm making dinner reservations under the name Joe.

National Hot Dog Day!

It's no secret I'm a fan of wieners. Big fan. Big wieners. To me they say, 'summer' and 'americana'. Remember the old slogan, baseball, hot dogs, apple pie and Chevrolet (even though that sounds french) The Hot dog industry has named July as National Hot Dog month and July 23nd as National Hot Dog Day. I also adore obscure holidays; International Talk like a Pirate Day, Melonball Thursday and am so happy to have found my new fave. The Dog Days of Summer, indeed.

The month begins with the Annual Coney Island Hot Dog Eating contest brought to you by Nathans Famous. My dear friend Joey Chestnut pulled another victory out of his solo cup by eating an astounding 54 HDB's in ten minutes. (hot dog and buns eaten) I know this because, I was there. Well, not physically, but spiritually. I was at friends holiday (July 4th) BBQ in Panorama City getting ready to have my third dog of the day. I was chatting up a very nice lady with tons of BoSox paraphernalia adorning her. I assumed my new besty was gay as she was checking her iPhone for sports feed. Straight, not narrow. She stumbled onto the results of this years competition and I implored her to give me more. When hearing of Kobayashi being arrested at the event I swooned. Kobabyashi is Chestnuts #1 competitor. Long and the short of it (pun intended) is K wasn't registered with the Federation that governs the sport and rushed the stage. High Drama among buns and lemonade. Arrested, hanging on to a rail like a child. Swoon.

See, I have an affinity for this event rising. I look forward to the Fourth Of July just for this very contest. Independence is nice, but wieners don't care who you marry. I remember my first seeing the televised event on ESPN when I was at work one night. My colleagues amazed I could actually be silenced by something on ESPN for that long a time. I was mesmerized by the depravity of my favortie activity and bastardizing it as a competition. I love to eat. I live to eat. I workout like a demon so I can eat more. Sometimes I awaken in the night to eat if I know that there's something special calling to me. Like a mermaid the sushi sings, Pavaroti draws me to the container of pasta leaving past roommates sighing knowing their leftovers when put into the fridge, "will never see the light of day." It's a sport governed by it's own Federation with by laws and dues. I cringe/cheer every time I get to hear one of the competitors resume. You don't know someone until you know how many crab cakes someone can put down. Or pounds of pasta. Or oysters. Would I want to have them for dinner? Probably not. Would I watch them on TV with the earnest love of a six-year old? Abso-freaking-lutely. Competitive Eating? Get out of here....

So get out there and grab yourselves a sausage with relish and succour. In La La Land, there are plenty of choices from Dodger Dogs to my personal fave Pinks. I encourage you to get out there and try it, it's a wonderful holiday and I think you'll enjoy it. National Hot Dog Day, not for the weak of heart, and a sport in some towns. If you are what you eat.....I am a hot dog.

Subway gets it's bread baked.

This is really good news. Spread the word on what Gay Clout means. This story about Subway is encouraging. I found this on towleroad , a fantastic news source for the GLBT community.

Thanks to western extermination for the use of their logo as my accent point and also my fantasic Halloween costume. Pictures soon.

http://pageoneq.com/news/2008/International_food_chain_111808.html

I'm also posting a link to HRC's list of corporations that made donations to Yes on Prop 8. The link is here.

September 19th, Talk Like A Pirate Day.

Anyone who knows me or has read all of my posts while sitting under power lines, knows that I celebrate the mundane and cherish the banal. I fancy holidays that I've created in my own mind and work diligently on spreading their good name. Well now, I 've had the rug pulled out from under my (peg) leg.











Today is International Talk Like A Pirate Day. The day when all are encouraged to talk like a pirate. It's been in existence for a short period of time, in comparison to Melonball Thursday's inception. It gained national exposure with the aid of syndicated columnist Dave Barry. The originator, Mark Summers (Cap'n Slappy, pictured right) and buddy John Baur (Ol' Chumbucket, left), created the day mostly to remember Summer's wifes Birthday. Here are some brilliant sound bytes to work in to your dialogue today, from Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson;









Bring me one noggin of rum, now, won't you, matey."









"Avast, there!"









"Dead men don't bite."









"Shiver my timbers!" (often pronounced as "Shiver me timbers!")









"Fifteen men on the dead man's chest -- Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!" (see Dead Man's Chest)









"There! That's what I think of ye. Before an hour's out, I'll stove in your old block house like a rum puncheon. Laugh, by thunder, laugh! Before an hour's out, ye'll laugh upon the other side. Them that die'll be the lucky ones."









I myself have often been considered a pirate of sorts. And thoroughly welcome this holiday as my own. AAAaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhhh.

Booty.

(Pictured; Cap'n Pinkertony, the Scourge of Barneys)

grrrrrr.