It’s raining men…Hallelujah!

So the EntertainmentDirector has found yet another gem for our lunchtime viewing pleasure. It’s the PBS masterpiece Tales of the City and it’s completely uncensored and mostly unedited (in other words, if seeing boobies and an ass here and there makes you giggle, you’re in luck. If you’re interested in hearing Olympia Dukakis say “fuck” sorry…not this time, sister.)

Armistead Maupin’s engaging account of life in 1970s and ‘80s San Francisco is arguably one the best series ever written (god…that sounds like a high school newspaper book review, doesn’t it? But I speak the truth.). My friend (and Sister’s sister-in-law) - the absolutely fabulous HippieSister - introduced me to them years ago. Incidentally, HippieSister now lives right outside of San Fran. (She has a compost pile and everything.) Coincidence? I don't think so.

After I read Tales, I immediately went out and bought the other five books. I was seriously depressed when I was done with them, although I recently learned a new title, Michael Tolliver Lives, was released last year. Maupin initially denied it’s “a seventh Tales book,” but it’s written from Mouse’s perspective (who is my absolutely favorite resident of 28 Barbary Lane), so you tell me.

Anyway, I can’t believe I’d never seen the mini-series before. Even if you haven’t read the books (which you absolutely should…but I understand some people have kids, jobs, bad reality tv to watch), the television version does not disappoint. It’s all about San Francisco is its gay-day – the drugs, the disco, the decadence (the stashing of Quaaludes in Virgin Mary statues...). We’re only on part three of six (which focuses primarily on the first book, by the way), but so far, the highlights are abundant:

• Mouse, clad in tightie whities, tries to win rent money by entering a dance contest at The End-Up (where there are more mustaches than you can shake a….um…stick…at);
• Brian attempts to work his game at a bathhouse (I didn’t know people went to those for hetero-hook ups?!? I’m so sheltered.);
• Mrs. Madrigal and Mona attend the most fabulous ‘70s drag show ever (Glenda the Good Witch is a dead ringer for Mike Tyson and I think Chris March from Project Runway designed all the outfits); and
• Beauchamp’s wife realized (at fat camp no less) that she may be pregnant with the Asian grocery delivery guy’s baby.

Plus, there’s an all-male nude beach scene.

And, really, is there any better compliment to vegetable soup and carrots than some “squint-and-you-can-see it” penis action during the lunchtime hour?

I didn't think so.