NO LABORING

Labor Day weekend was fairly un-laborious, save for a bit of freelance writing I needed to do today that I'd been procrastinating for weeks. Other than that, the weekend was mostly lazy and lovely.

Friday night, I caught THE BROTHERS GRIMM with fidgetcub and simonbear. It's a complete mess, but interesting nonetheless. The concept is clever, but the execution felt like Gilliam was on a leash -- it was lavish, but not nearly as over-the-top as some of his other films. And some of the FX sucked pretty hard -- it certainly didn't look like a $60m film. Saturday night, went with moroccomole and aairplane and gamebearla for a drive-in double feature of THE DUKES OF HAZZARD (lame! not funny! less talking! more cars crashing, please!) and WEDDING CRASHERS (funnier than expected). On Sunday, had a lovely brunch with zombietruckstop and guysterrules, and afterwards Mr. Zombie went home and Mr. Guyster and I went to see the crude and high-larious 40-YEAR-OLD VIRGIN, which made me want to lick Seth Rogen from head to toe.

But Saturday afternoon contained the highlight of the entire weekend. You see, on Friday, gamebearla called me and asked if I wanted to round up the posse and head to a swanky pool party in the Hollywood Hills on Saturday afternoon.

As luck would have it, a good friend of gamebearla is best friends with the Best Gay of a well-known Gay-Friendly Actress And Producer. In addition to being GFAAP's business partner, the BG also lives in her (ginormous, size-of-a-normal-house) guest house -- and I guess one of the perks of being the Live-In Best Gay of a celebrity is being able to throw a few super-gay pool parties every year.

So we head to the hills, and end up at this amazing house -- which I instantly recognized. If you've seen the 1967 Lee Marvin/Angie Dickinson movie POINT BLANK, it's the sprawling, resort-like house that's used in the finale.

Alas, we weren't graced with GFAAP's lovely presence at the party, and the attendees were mostly a slew of harmless, zero-body-fat A-List-Gays. Surprisingly, they didn't recoil in horror at our small group of fat hairy fags as we descended upon the shindig -- in fact, the awesome host and friend-of-a-friend who invited us actually made sure to tell gamebearla to "bring all the bears, because they're more fun and will actually get in the pool."

Hell yes.

So, moroccomole and fidgetcub and teelo and gamebearla and I were the first to get wet, diving in with wild furry abandon. Accordingly, we all used the diving board to its full potential, strategically aiming our cannonballs at the cocktail-swizzling masses on dry land, watching their eyes roll and noses wrinkle every time we got their A&F damp. Good times.

The pool was crazy huge, as witnessed in the photos I've posted online. While the interior of the house was off-limits, we had the run of the outside grounds, which included some gorgeous views of the city. Also, the cabana building contained a quirky underground lounge, complete with viewing windows into the pool -- which led to much underwater photo mugging (hence my latest user icon).

The underground lounge also had a 80-foot long concrete tube, about two feet in diameter, running horizontally under the ground -- which had a spinning tin duck target at the end. Yes, it was an underground rifle range. Thank god for crazy rich people in the 60s who built houses like this in the Hollywood Hills, and thank god for GFAAP for buying it and letting us, by lucky-ass proxy, see how crazy it is.

As moroccomole surmised, "this is the LA we don't live in."