Category Archives: General

My favorite bartender Nicole is about to go out on maternity leave. (Another one bites the baby dust…) I will miss her friendly, witty banter, but most of all I will miss her way with the pink peppercorns. I admire any bartender who can come up with a cocktail based on your likes and recommendations of ingredients, so when I told her I wanted something with gin and grapefruit, but nothing too sweet, she concocted a delicious treat that incorporated gin, grapefruit juice, a couple of other ingredients, and – the secret weapon against sweetness – pink peppercorns. It was the perfect drink, something that works in all seasons.

The warm delight in finding a good bartender who remembers both your name and your favored drink seems to be on the wane, which is another reason I’ll miss Nicole. Albany has not been kind in crafting talented cocktail conjurors, so I may wait until she returns to get a proper libation. It will be worth it.

A number of friends have recommended the film ‘Frozen’ – and after watching this clip for the hundredth time and reading this take on the movie, I may have to visit Elsa’s icy world after all. I don’t think I’ve seen an animated film since ‘Up’, so perhaps it’s time.

On this very important holiday, let us take a light-hearted romp with the weekly recap. I can’t decide if this blog should veer into the more personal or less personal… the former may be more interesting, but the latter is better poised for longevity and inclusiveness. In the meantime, we remain in flux, and in limbo – and I can’t stand either. On with the show…

Somewhere, lost amid the kitchen shuffle, this website marked its 11th year of existence – making it a dinosaur as far as websites go. Still we chug along. I think I can, I think I can.

I made a return to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, even if at first I couldn’t remember.

The madness and melancholy of Morrissey. And the hope of Casey Stratton.

This prick royally pissed me off, and promptly apologized. Twice. (It still wasn’t enough.)

A favorite Boston stop for delicious goodies.

Meet my old friends Harold and Maude, by way of Suzie.

Come to the hottest party of the winter season – get your tickets now!

Keeping things hot in the cold, were Hunks like Tom Brady, Duncan James, Colin Kaepernick, Daniel Garofali, Mitch Lawrence, Trevor Adams, Sir Jet, and our very own kitchen Hunk, Cristian.

Today is my Mom’s birthday, so if you happen to see Mrs. Ilagan strolling the streets of Boston (where I believe she’ll be later today) please do wish her a happy one. And if Mrs. Ilagan happens to see this post by her first-born son, Happy Birthday Mom!

When I was little, ‘Someone That I Used to Love’ was her favorite song that I could play on the piano, so when I wanted to please her I would play it. (I didn’t know until I looked it up on YouTube that Barbra Streisand recorded a version.)

A shell of discarded clothing.

A rumpled mound of wrinkled fabric.

A cottony corpse of crumpled threads, woven together into something more.

How colorful the world can be, if you pull on the right underwear.

But be wary: there are trade-offs for such gaudiness.

No one can stand a star that burns too brightly.

When the weather turned dismal and dreary, and rain made walking in Boston a bit of a drag, I stopped in for an early showing of ‘American Hustle’. Despite getting some rave reviews, I was hesitant about it. The 70’s were never quite as glamorous as people always seem to want to make them out to be. Flared collars, polyester, John Travolta? No thanks. But after the first twenty minutes or so (which were almost unbearably dull to me), the story took over, the performances coalesced, and the rest of the ride was pretty impressive.

If I’m going to be completely honest, though, the real stars of the movie were as follows:

Amy Adams’ side-cleavage. Hello halters.

Bradley Cooper’s impossibly-tight perm. Hello poodle.

Christian Bale’s pot belly. Hello piggy.

Jennifer Lawrence’s lip-gloss. Hello sexy.

If any of those entities fails to win an award, it will be robbery. Sheer robbery.

Eleven years ago this month I started www.ALANILAGAN.com. It had about 2 visitors (myself and my webmaster), twenty photos, twenty written works, and a vainglorious ‘About Me’ section overflowing with hubris. Over a decade later, we get a million hits on a good day (two million on one recent great day), and last year we clocked in over 100 million hits in total. Those numbers ring deceptively high, as hits aren’t an accurate gauge on how many people are visiting your site. Unique visitors, however, are – and we now get over 100,000 a month. That’s peanuts for most big-time websites, but for a personal blog about an often-off-putting prick like myself, it’s pretty damn impressive.

Anniversaries are a bigger deal here than they are in real life, mostly because it’s easier to link to the past online than in person. Madonna anniversaries, wedding anniversaries, and big ten-year anniversaries (and their hyped-up spin-off posts) get a lot of the glory, mostly because this is the one area of indulgence wherein I get to look back. So let’s do that for this morning.

While I don’t usually like to do it, sometimes the only way to move forward is by looking back. Examining what worked and what didn’t, what went well, and what went to shit. With an arc of eleven years, it’s easier to see patterns of happiness or distress, moments of melancholy and moments of contentment. Overall, though, even with all the troughs and peaks, you have to admit that I’ve kept things pretty steady, at least on this website – perhaps the only aspect of life over which I have complete control. As such, it is probably one of the purest places to find the truth – at least, as much of the truth that I’m going to reveal to the world at large. And, that’s actually quite a bit.

Thank you – yes, you – for visiting. Not just today, but for any day you’ve taken the time to stop by and peruse the silly antics, man candy, and Madonna moments that I post here not only for my entertainment, but for yours. I used to think that I did this solely for myself, but over the years it’s become more than that, and while we may never be as interactive as some sites, don’t think that I can’t sense you and feel you and appreciate you, out there in the dark. If you want to step out into the light and introduce yourself, you are always welcome to contact me directly at alanilagan1[@]gmail.com.

Happy 11th Anniversary – to us.

Torn between the Golden Globes and a new episode of ‘Downton Abbey’ (and in the absence of a DVR), I opted for both. Well, I interrupted the Golden Globes for the new ‘DA’, and all I missed was a crazed-looking Jared Leto (haven’t we all seen that already anyway?) Anyway, here are my bitchy takes on how the evening, and its gowns, unfolded. (BTW, can Tina Fey and Amy Poehler host every awards show from here on out? Pretty please?)

Amy Adams – The side-boob worked in ‘American Hustle’. Set in the 1970’s. Do the math.

Lupita Nyong’o – Stunning in a red cape by Ralph Lauren. (Some of us did a red cape two years ago, but whatever…)

Cate Blanchett – One of my favorite red-carpet ladies makes me wish it was more permissible for men to wear sheer lace. Oh screw it, I’m gonna do it anyway.

Matthew McConaughey– Usually I find tuxedos boring, but that Dolce & Gabbana may have made me a believer.

Wait a second, who is reviewing these fashions? Where is the vitriol?

Sandra Bullock – All you need is circus peanut orange!

Jennifer Lawrence – I love you too much to say what I feel about that dress.

Clearly the person in charge of the seating chart never thought Jacqueline Bisset would win. As for the acceptance speech, all I heard was “Shit. Go to hell.” No, literally – that’s all that the editing allowed through. I loved it!

Whom can I blame for all this side-cleavage? I want names.

Paula Patton – Careful, Ruffles come with ridges.

I missed Jared Leto. Was it really that bad?

Emma Stone – That hair. No

Diane Keaton – Still on the Drag King kick after all these years, but since getting a proper tailor she finally made it work.

Sunrise or Sunset?

There are currently two television programs I’m watching (which is one more than is typical of me) ~ ‘American Horror Story’ and ‘Downton Abbey’. That about sums up my frame of mind, and my pathology in general. Taken together, they are a clash of cultures and sensibilities, and in many ways they couldn’t be more different. Yet I love them both. Such disparate taste makes it difficult for people to peg me, and all of those ‘If you like this, try this…’ Pandora-like recommendations that Amazon and other companies try to sell always fall flat. Just because I like Madonna doesn’t mean I’ll like Kylie Minogue. Most humans are too nuanced and capricious for such grand generalizations.

Occasionally they work: I was introduced to Jo Malone through all my Tom Ford purchases, and it’s been a nice working relationship thus far – nothing serious yet, but I’m open to pursuing something. Mostly, though, I ignore the pre-programmed suggestions. There’s something grotesque about being that predictable. No matter how accurate your algorithms may be, I will always surprise you. Just when you think I’m going to go straight for the new Tom Ford Private Blend, I’ll take an Hermes detour. And just when you think you have me pegged to an Hermes T, I’ll splash on a simple essential oil from Aveda.

As for ‘American Horror Story’ and ‘Downtown Abbey’, I’m quite enjoying the current season of each. The former, in its ‘Coven’ incarnation, is, I believe, enjoying its best season thus far. Jessica Lange and Angela Bassett are chewing up the scenery right and left, and the over-the-top antics (everybody seems to come back from the dead, for better or worse) continually manage to surprise and delight in their sickness. ‘Downton’ on the other hand continues to entrance with its own dichotomous study of the upstairs versus downstairs life at the Abbey. And there we have the duality that has always appealed to me. Like Batman and Wonder Woman, we are always more than one person. Most of us are several. Some, quite a bit more. Don’t make me choose a favorite.

The best part of not having a Christmas tree this year is not having to take one down. Usually I look around at the Christmas trees on the street at this time of the year with shame and disgrace (because ours often doesn’t get taken down until Valentine’s Day). This year I see them and smile in relief and glee.

Returning to our table at Shogun, I see Andy snickering and shielding his mouth behind his hand as he whispers, “Wouldn’t it be funny if that was Max?”

“What? Who’s Max?” I ask.

“What are the odds?” he asks in return.

“Who is Max??” I repeat.

“The kid who cut his finger off,” he says with a grin.

I turn around and look at the table behind us. A college-age kid sits before his sushi, a finger on his left hand bandaged in white. I look back at Andy, recalling that neither of us has ever seen the guy who lost part of his finger on a saw in our garage.

“Go ask him!” I exclaim. He shakes his head.

I hop off my chair and approach the table.

“Can I ask you how you hurt your finger?” I say, interrupting his conversation with a young woman.

“Oh, I cut it on a saw…”

“In someone’s garage?” I cut in.

He looks at me quizzically and says yes.

“That was our garage,” I explain, and by that time Andy is already over shaking his hand. And apologizing.

The odds of running into the guy who just cut his finger off while working on your construction project have got to be pretty low, but there we were, shaking hands – the good hand, at least – with that very man. We made some small talk – it turns out everyone knows someone who’s lost a finger – and then left them to their meal.

At the end of it, we bought Max and his date their dinner, figuring it was the least we could do. Hopefully the gods of kitchen karma have been somewhat mollified, and there will be no disembodied fingers haunting the garage.

(PS – Andy made me take the picture – and good-sport Max was game.)