Knee Deep in Vagina

I love Tina Fey. I swear, if I wasn't already spoken for (and gay) I'd have a serious crush.

The Partner in Crime and I have taken to going to the movies lately. This means actually going to the movies as opposed to abusing our Netflix account. Part of this lies due to the fact that the bar scene around here is totally lame. Okay, that's a gross generalization. The [one] gay bar here in town is devoted to drag queens and twinks. Not that I have anything against either demographic -- I'm just over them. Having been "out and about" since the age of 18 (yes, Mom... sorry) in cities both large and small, I've seen just about everything I want to see. And more. Much, much more.
Back home, we have a bar called Blackstones. For lack of a better comparison, let's refer to it as Gay Cheers. It's a neighborhood watering hole catering to those of us who are 30+. I've been going there since I moved back to Maine from NYC in 1996. So I know a lot of people there. I know of a lot of people there. And most of them know me. It's a great place to hang out and socialize. For others, it's a great place to go cruise... but that's another story for a different blog.
Anyway... I've determined that Blackstones is unique. And I miss it. And we don't have anything like that (yet) down here.
So, we've been going to the movies. In the past few weeks we've seen the above-mentioned Baby Mama, Iron Man, Indiana Jones and the Long Overdue Reappearance of Karen Allen, SATC, and Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day.
Gotta say, we enjoyed them all.
And who knows... maybe we'll continue to go to the movies once we've made friends. Friends who like to go to the movies.