Flibbertigibbet

Patsy Cline Sings a Sad Song

Patsy Cline is old skool country and a goddess of the genre. I'm listening to my box set this morning and this song just played. It's a good one, but oh so sad.

I'm looking for that lonely street I've got a sad, sad tale to tell I need a place to go and weep Where's this place called "Lonely Street?"

A place where there's just loneliness
Where dim lights bring forgetfulness
Where broken dreams and mem'ries meet
Where's this place called "Lonely Street?"

Perhaps upon that lonely street
There's someone such as I
Who came to bury broken dreams
And watch an old love die

If I could find that lonely street
Where dim lights bring forgetfulness
Where broken dreams and mem'ries meet
Where's this place called "Lonely Street?"

Check it out sometime.

Your Love is Like a Heatwave

In New York City, particularly in older buildings, the heat is centrally controlled. This means that regardless of your preference, the heat is either on or off at a level that is beyond your reach.

This presents a problem: if you are too cold, you have to put on a sweater or get a blanket or something. If you are too hot, you have to go outside or turn on your air conditioner.

Air conditioners in these buildings are window units that you have to purchase and install on your own.

It strikes me as a bit absurd to have the AC on in late November or early December, but I have been tempted. I've settled for just opening my windows. Because it is a gazillion degrees in my apartment these days.

Someone put up a sheet in the lobby to write down complaints about the heat. Everyone but me and one other person is complaining that they have no heat. So, I'm scared that the super will turn the heat way up in an attempt to get heat to everyone else and I will die in my sleep of either dehydration or spontaneous combustion.

Tattoos

I kind of think tattoos are hot. I don't have any myself, but I think about it a bit. It doesn't help that over the past several years I've made lots of friends who have tattoos. Buddhista, Kung Fu Grocer, Pink Martini, Olive Oil... hell, even this little twinky Asian guy I know has several.

And on those shows like Inked and Miami Ink, those people do some pretty amazing things. It's not just cool drawing or design, but it looks really good on the body, too.

I've even had dreams for nearly a year now in which I have tattoos. Usually my right shoulder and arm is covered to a little past my elbow. It's kind of hard to describe.

I haven't gotten a tattoo because they're pretty much permanent.

I think tattoos should serve a primary purpose of being identifying markings. Because they're chosen, they say more about who you are as an individual than your body does on its own.

It's like dressing yourself forever.

I don't wear Tweety Bird t-shirts, so you can guess that I tend to think cartoon character tattoos are silly.

Actually, corporate logos, e.g. Harley Davidson, Nike, Apple, are things I would not get as tattoos, either. I can see why a person might choose something like that, but I would wonder if the sum of meanings and values associated with that logo are subsumed by your personal identity. And what if the business goes under due to some horrible criminal activity?

Tribal designs, aztec symbols, or words in different languages are problematic, but not inherently objectionable. Just make sure your kanji don't spell out something insipid like "frisbee" or "thalidomide baby."

A lot of people get tattoos as markings of memories. They use them to signify changes or accomplishments in their lives. It's like keeping your memory chest on your... chest.

There is a secondary purpose to a tattoo, though. It needs to enhance or at least not detract from the beauty of your body on its own. Given the impermanent nature of your body, its shape, line, and even color, this can be a very special challenge.

Have you seen really old people with tattoos? Tattoos that span stretch marks? I've never had an opportunity to examine either of those cases, but I'm sure that the distortion induced by those things moves the appearance of those tattoos away from their intended goals, particularly that second one above.

I think if I were to get a tattoo, I would want to design it myself or commission something unique. Obviously, my mind isn't made up about getting a tattoo, but if you're going to get one, you should be sure about it because you can't easily undo it.

Thoughts, anyone?

They're Gone!

This visit wasn't so bad except for my dad getting the flu and sleeping for most of the last couple of days. He did get up and walk around Chinatown and Soho with us yesterday, but he looked like a zombie the whole time.

I'm glad my parents have gone home. I tried to tell them during their last visit that my studio apartment is just too small for all of us. This visit wasn't nearly as bad because my sister wasn't here.

My sister did manage to piss me off, though.

Sometime in July, my sister asked me for copies of the photos I took during their visit in May. I said, "Sure. I'll FTP them to my server and you can download them."

She didn't have the internet, though. She wanted me to do something else.

I said, "Well, I guess I could burn them to CD."

She loved that idea, of course. She also expected me to ship them to her free of charge. She's a mooch like that.

I told her I had little intention of doing it soon, though. I would burn it when I got the chance.

So, she called me a couple of times over the next few months asking if I had done.

"No. I told you I would do it eventually," I said calmly but with that steely edge to my voice that let her know I was about to refuse to do her the favor.

Eventually, I told her that I would burn it and give it to Mom and Dad when they came up for Thanksgiving.

She called before their visit to remind me. I said I would and there was no problem.

She called during their visit to remind me. I said I would and there was no problem.

She called mom during their visit to remind me. IT WAS DONE AND THERE IS NO PROBLEM.

She called AGAIN to make sure that I burned the CD and that they did not forget it.

At that point, I started screaming my threats to throw the blasted thing down the trash chute.

My sister is the sort of person who has no compunction about asking other people to move Mt. Fuji for her out of their kindness of their hearts, but also will whine and fuss to get out of doing anything for those same people.

She brags about putting herself through college all by herself. That's a lie. She accepted financial support from both me and my parents. What ires me about this is what caused me to cut off my support to her: she was lying about needing the money.

She would say things about not being able to pay rent or the electric bill and so, of course, we would give her some money.

It turns out she had a couple thousand dollars in the bank and even purchased a cruise vacation at one point.

During her last visit, she complained so much and acted like such a bitch that she's not welcome to stay in my house any more. We didn't fight about it or anything. She's just not invited.

I told my mom they would have to stay in a hotel next time and my mom quickly identified the problem.

My parents are significantly less obtrusive, but they still irritate me with their craziness.

So, I'm glad they're gone. The next time I see them will be for Christmas in which I am going to their house, which has several rooms and plenty of space for spreading out and getting away from the rest of them.

Homeopathy Antipathy

Homeopathy rests on the premise of treating sick persons with extremely diluted agents that - in undiluted doses - are deemed to produce similar symptoms in a healthy individual. Its adherents and practitioners assert that the therapeutic potency of a remedy can be increased by serial dilution of the drug, combined with succussion or vigorous shaking. In common with conventional medicine, homeopathy regards diseases as morbid derangements of the organism. However, homeopathy states that instances of disease in different people differ fundamentally. Homeopathy views a sick person as having a dynamic disturbance in a hypothetical "vital force," and so rejects the standard medical diagnoses of named diseases.

I regard homeopathy as generally little better than witchcraft or voodoo.

It's not that I don't think some homeopathic remedies are not effective, but I think that they are effective for reasons different from those given by practicioners of homeopathy. The principles of homeopathy are bunk.

Well, my dad is sleeping again and my mom remarked, "He isn't snoring!"

I said, "He hasn't been snoring for most of the time he's been asleep."

But he does have a snoring problem. He's overweight and I mentioned the alcohol. I'm not a doctor, but guessing at sleep apnea doesn't take a huge flight of fancy. He should lose weight and refrain from drinking before sleep and ESPECIALLY WHEN HE'S SICK WITH THE FLU!

But my mom was struck by his lack of snoring for a little bit there. She told me that he's been using a product called "Snorestop Extinguisher."

This product is billed as

Our original formula is now available in a convenient oral spray for fast-acting relief. The SnoreStop Extinguisher has a unique design and system of delivery. Shake well prior to each use. Then spray in the back of throat, which will provide a faster absorption of a potentized-solution. Moreover, SnoreStop Extinguisher may be your night-saver, quickly resolving any accidental snoring flare up!

The SnoreStop Maximum Strength formula is prepared in accordance with the Homeopathic Pharmacopoeia of the United States (HPUS). The ingredients in SnoreStop Maximum Strength Formula are recognized as an official collection of accepted drug ingredients by the Federal Food, Drug and Cosmetic Act and are manufactured in FDA-approved laboratories. Each natural ingredient comes either from plant, mineral or protein sources and is present only in harmless microscopic amounts in each dose.

That last part is important because the website says that it works by:

SnoreStop has a dual therapeutic action. It shrinks swollen soft tissues in the throat where 90% of non-apnea snoring symptoms occur, and it dries built-up mucous in the sinus passages. SnoreStop's mode of action is decongestive, anti-inflammatory, anti-histaminic and mucolytic. Most other formulas just use various oils blended into water for a lubricating action.

The ingredients listed on the container are as follows:

Nux Vomica (4X), (6X), Belladona (6X), Ephedra Vulgaris (6X), Hydrastis Canadensis (6X), Kali Bichromicum (6X), Teucrium Marum (6X), Histaminum Hydrochloricum (12X). Inactive Ingredients: Purified Water (75%), USP Alcohol (15%), Glycerine (9.9%), Potassium Sorbate (0.1%).

I glanced at the package and saw the word "homeopathy" and I had to check the ingredients. That's when the second, third, and fourth ingredients tipped me off.

I like gardening. I wish I had learned more about horticulture.

Belladonna is poisonous. It's also known as Deadly Nightshade. You don't plant it where kids or animals might get to it because the berries taste sweet and can kill. Just like how we don't leave antifreeze next to the Kool-aid.

Ephedra was a warning to me even though the package says it doesn't contain ephedrine or pseudoephedrine, it seemed wrong. I looked it up and it turns out that it's poisonous, too.

"Canadensis" sounded familiar to me as a species, so I looked it up, too. Another poisonous one.

Oh, and the first one? Nux Vom? AKA Nux Vomica. AKA strychnine.

A few more wiki searches crossed with some googles and I found out that most of the things listed as an active ingredient is toxic.

*sigh*

I wish my parents would stop going to the hippie medicine store.

My dad is poisoning himself to stop snoring.

Lots of medicines can be poisonous in large doses but function well as treatments for illness in smaller doses. Tylenol and aspirin, both, can be poisonous. That in itself does not bother me.

What bothers me is the homeopathy prescribes medicine BECAUSE it's toxic. Homeopathy says, "Well, if this medicine causes congestion when you're well, then it must make you well when you're congested." Treat like with like. That's the foundation of homeopathy.

That's what bothers me. It's wrong from the start. How many things are made worse by this foolish approach to medicine?

Although it helps his snoring, it's certainly not helping my dad's flu.

My Parents Aren't Listening

My mom told my dad that we went to a restaurant and we had a "portofino" cheese with some "portofino" ham. My dad grunted his interest.

The reality is that our appetizer consisted of mozzarella baked in prosciutto ham.

My dad has the flu right now. He's been asleep for nearly 24 hours at this point. He has a fever and a headache and all that.

Over the course of the day, though, my dad has had more than half a bottle of Glenfidditch single malt whiskey.

Apparently, the consensus between my parents is that this will help with the cough and small bit of congestion my dad has.

I have not said a thing to them about how ridiculous this theory is.

I'm sure that all that alcohol has not helped his immune system fight the virus. And I'm sure it won't help with his remaining hydrated through the fever. And the sleep is supposed to allow your body to heal itself and regenerate, but feeding it poison in the midst of disease is... well, crazy.

But I haven't said anything.

It struck me just a bit ago that they don't care.

I think my mom is talking to just tell my dad that she had a good time at dinner, but her words don't make any sense in themselves. How is my dad supposed to know what she's talking about. Is "portofino" cheese good at all? I've never heard of it and I'm sure my dad hasn't.

My dad is downing some more whiskey right now. At least it's mixed with Pepsi at the moment. I guess.

Every time we've come back to my apartment to regroup, they get stuck either napping, watching television, or just wandering about jibbering about something or another. Forget about trying to get them to make decisions about what they would like to do.

The last time they were here, I made them make a list of things they thought they might like to do and then I planned an itinerary for them. This time, they had only a couple of things they really wanted to do and we were to just wing the rest of the visit.

They don't like choosing what to do, though. So, we usually spend about two hours getting ready and talking about what we MIGHT do. We don't know what we're going to do, literally, until we're standing on the sidewalk in front of my building.

But obviously applying reason isn't critical to this whole experience to them. They seem to be enjoying themselves.

Still, it's hard to have conversations with these people. It's hard to even make suggestions for them because they don't claim any preferences about things.

*sigh*

My parents are enjoyable people on some levels. I keep them around not because I feel something I would qualify as love, but because I feel deep familiarity with them.

When I spend short periods of time with them, I don't mind them so much. In fact, I enjoy my time with them. But once the visit takes more than two or three days, I find that I become... strained. We crossed that mark yesterday.

They're leaving Tuesday morning.

My Parents

1) My parents are messy.
2) My parents are nosey.
3) My parents are noisey.
4) My parents are boring.
5) My parents are unfocused.
6) My parents are easily confused.
7) My parents are coming down with awful colds.
8) My parents are having a good time.
9) Best of all, my parents leave early Tuesday morning.

Dinner at the Waldorf

My parents and I had a great Thanksgiving. Dinner was delicious. The Rockettes were fabulous.

Dinner at the Waldorf=Astoria's Peacock Alley was really quite good once we got over some initial confusion.

First of all, I requested dinner reservations for Thanksgiving. What I did not realize is that the kitchen was closed on Thanksgiving and we had no choice but to accept the Thanksgiving Dinner offer they had going.

It was $120 per person.

This was about $40 per person more than I really was looking to spend.

What irritated me even more (not just that no one mentioned this arrangement to me prior to our arrival) was that the dinner was buffet-style.

If I am going to pay $120 for my dinner, I want someone carrying it to me.

But we resolved to stay and enjoy ourselves and we had a great time.

The food, though buffet-style, was excellent. The turkey, in spite of being kept warm under lamps and sitting out, was moist and flavorful.

They had lobster, oysters, shrimp, and ribs in addition to the turkey. Lots of great vegetable dishes.

And! There were as many desserts as veggies. They had a chocolate fountain in which to dip strawberries and marshmellows and other things. There were brownies and cheesecakes. There were these little fudgey things with gold foil on top and some tiny little eclaires with similar foil.

It was excellent.

So, my only complaint about the food is really a complaint about my belly: I can't eat very much most of the time. I felt like I could not take full advantage of all there was to offer there, but what I did have was great.

Let me add a couple more things: the service was mediocre. It was actually pretty bad at first because none of the people we spoke with initially were able to make themselves well-understood in English, which is a non-negotiable, fundamental requirement for working in a fancy-pants restaurant here.

But once our wait staff fell into their groove, service was excellent. They were EXTREMELY attentive. Perfectly so. I had but to glance at our waiter and it was as if his Jedi/spider sense would tingle and he would come running. A simple gesture and he knew exactly what we wanted.

Our wine was also excellent. We picked it out ourselves, but our waiter told us a lot about it before we opened the bottle and provided a comparison to some other wines. As a special bonus, at the end of our meal, he poured us glasses of one of the other wines, just so we could try it and compare.

In the end, I don't think dinner was worth the $600 bill that included tip. I blame the silly holiday "offering."

The regular menu prices are far more reasonable for that level of service and the quality of food, though. I would certainly go back for that.

Overheard in a Shoe Store

Ditz: Hi! Do you sell Jewelry?

Shoe salesman: No. This is a shoe store.

Ditz: But you used to?

Shoe salesman: shakes head

Ditz: Just a little bit?

Shoe salesman: shakes head

Ditz: leaving I'M SO CONFUSED!

Thank You Thanksgiving!

My office closed at 2 today. I worked a little later to wrap some things up, but I was out of the office by 3. The weather here isn't so great today, but I was happy to get out of the office before it got dark.

My parents arrive early tomorrow morning for Thanksgiving and we're expecting to have a great time of it.

I found out last night that a friend of mine from Georgia is in town, so when he gets here, and I've finished cleaning my apartment for my parents, I will head out on the town.

I'm also taking a couple extra days off after my parent's visit just to be a vegetable.

So, this should be a great, long weekend!

Woohoo!

Where My Turkeys At?

My parents are coming to NYC for Thanksgiving. They're kind of stoked about it.

My mom wants to see Christmas decorations and the Christmas show at Radio City Music Hall.

My dad is hoping that it will snow. My mom and I both tried to explain that Thanksgiving is a bit early for snow, particularly when we've been having temperatures ten degrees above normal.

Anyway, I was a slacker and waited too long to make dinner reservations for us for Thanksgiving.

Update: Good news! The Waldorf-Astoria seems to have space. Woohoo!

Weight Gainer 1850

I have this powder that you mix with milk called Weight Gainer 1850. If you drink a full shake of it, you get 1850 calories composed primarily of protiene and carbohydrates.

I can't drink a full shake in a single sitting. Not because it tastes bad, mine is chocolate and actually tastes pretty good, but because it is like eating three meals in a single sitting and my stomach is not inclined to such feats of strength or endurance.

My family is a family of grazers. We're like cow people. We love veggies and we don't like big servings. We much prefer to just nibble on a few baby carrots here or a couple of grapes there. We do like candy, though. And that's where I learned my own eating habits.

When I'm not hungry, I don't eat. I do not clean my plate if I don't want to. I love candy and ice cream, but I also love eating vegetables and white meat.

So, I'm generally a pretty lean fellow.

Well, now I'm lifting weights and trying to put on some pounds. (I've gained 15 lbs since March.) And now I've started a weight-lifting routine that is designed to help me bulk up faster, but this also means I have to eat more. I need more calories, preferrably calories from protein.

And I just realized that in an average day, I probably only consume about 2,000 calories or less.

I'm a 6'2" 185 lb active male and I'm only getting about 2,000 calories? That's crazy! It's no wonder it's hard for me to gain weight.

But these shakes kill me. They make me feel like I'm going to explode.

I Went to the Desert on a Horse with No Name

There are a couple of complete idiots at my work, but there are also some people who aren't complete idiots who just have fits of complete idiocy. Consider the following.

Last week, a guy came into a meeting and said, "I just found out that Jack and Jill are dating!"

I don't know Jill, but I hate Jack, so I really didn't care.

Later, someone said with regard to a project, "Jill is going to work on this for you."

I said, "Who's Jill?"

"Oh, you know, Suzie."

"Suzie?" I asked with a cocked head.

"Oh yeah. Suzie is the new Jill, so we call Suzie Jill sometimes."

I thought, "Wait. So, SUZIE is dating Jack?" I didn't ask them about it, though, because it took a bit for me to remember the dating gossip.

It didn't make any sense. Suzie is hot. Jack is not. Suzie is sweet, pleasant, and intelligent. Jack is loud, obnoxious, ill-mannered, a know-it-all, and a butthead. I can't believe Suzie would date Jack.

So, today, I was talking to someone else and Jack came up.

I said, "Is Jack dating Suzie?"

They exclaimed, "WHAT? NO! That's ridiculous!"

I said, "Well, others said the other day that Jack was dating Jill and then they told me that they call Suzie 'Jill.' So, I thought they were saying Jack is dating Suzie and it didn't make any sense to me either."

They said, "Jack is dating who?"

I said, "Jill."

"Oh."

"But Jill is Suzie."

"What?"

"They call Suzie 'Jill.' "

"Why would they do that?"

"I don't know. They just told me that Suzie is the new Jill and I don't know Jill, but that's what they said they call Suzie now."

"Oh. No, Suzie has Jill's old job, but Jill doesn't work with us any more. Jill is Suzie's roommate, though."

So, eventually it got straightened out.

How stupid is it to actually call someone by someone else's name just because that person took over their job?

Every single conversation related to Jack dating and the Jill/Suzie Name Fiasco irritated me. It was like living in the world of Who's on First.

Dominique Day

I'm in a bad mood about my fellow human beings today.

It's not that they're evil and have been doing mean things to me. No one was in my way on the stairs this morning... at least not more than usual. No one pushed me, swore at me, spit on me, or pissed their pants while hitting on me. It's none of those things.

It's that I look around at people and the vast majority of them are just not that impressive.

They're jammed full of cliches and faith in all sorts of hoobajoobie. ("Hoobajoobie" is my word for made-up things that people believe in like magic.)

Even if you find someone who happens to not believe in the hoobajoobie, like Richard Dawkins, they STILL probably have some really wrong ideas about ethics.

It doesn't help that I spend more time than is good for my blood pressure following national politics. Is there ANY amount of time spent following national politics that is good for one's blood pressure?

And, in case you haven't gathered already, I consider myself Objectivist-ish. (I add the -ish not because I've found any major or even moderate objections to the Philosophy of Ayn Rand, but that I think I lack sufficient knowledge on the topic to consider myself qualified to make the claim.)

Look around at people calling themselves Objectivist. There are a ton of them who are as wrong as a person can be about things. They might as well just check out the Big Book of Hoobajoobie from the library and light a candle to ward off the alligator-head god of eternal rain and darkness.

It's one of those days where I'd like to climb onto that sailboat and just ride off into the ocean to see what can be seen.

It's one of those days where I kind of want to see the storm troopers kicking in people's doors just so I can say, "I told you so."

It's one of those days where I really should have just stayed in bed and watched cartoons all day. At least in cartoons, the good guys almost always win.

Shirt Stays

I know that this post will not help dissipate Matt's image of me as Niles from Frasier, but here I go anyway.

I strolled down to Macy's on my lunch break today to find some shirt stays.

Macy's is a big department store. They sell all sorts of things. Shirt stays are kind of rare these days, I suppose. You only see them really along with formal wear and uniforms, but I didn't think they were so endangered that a store the size of Macy's would fail to have them.

I walked in and asked one of the ladies, "Do you sell shirt stays?"
"Shirt stage?"
"Stays."
"Shirt stays?"
"Yes."
"What is that?"

*sigh*

Shirt stays are elastic straps that clip to your shirt tail and socks to keep your shirt from bunching or coming untucked.

In an episode of the Cosby show, Heathcliff Huxtable told his son, Theo, that they were to hold his socks up before people invented elastic. Ha! Ha! Remember that? It was so funny. That Bill Cosby is such a joker.

The last time I wore shirt stays was actually prom night. They came with the tuxedo that I rented. I thought they were nifty.

Anyway, shirt stays have been on my mind, so I went to Macy's.

I ran the ladies on the first floor all over looking for them. Then, when I asked where the formal wear department is, they looked puzzled again. I can kind of understand not knowing where the shirt stays are, but formal wear? You're fired.

They suggested the third floor, so up I went. It was not the formal wear department at all. But I saw a fussy looking older man there and I asked him about them.

He actually seemed delighted that someone would ask him about shirt stays or some other arcane device of male fashion.

"No," he sniffed, "We don't carry them. We should, but I haven't seen them for years. I hate to send you somewhere else, but I got my last pair at Bloomingdales. They should also have them at Lord & Taylor or Brooks Brothers. Any place on Fifth Avenue."

I thanked him for the tip and left Macy's.

I really didn't think that it would be this difficult.

Happy Monday!

I really don't feel like going to work today.

I'd rather stay home, clean my apartment, and maybe hit the gym again. (I just got back from the trainer.)

The weather isn't great here in NYC. It rained most of yesterday and and continues to threaten more for today.

Of course, if I did stay home today, I'd probably wind up just sitting on my butt instead.

Well! I gotta hop to it.

It's Your Birthday

A while back I met this guy off of gay.com.

Gay.com is a site where people go to chat and 90% of the time they're there to find casual sex partners. So, if you say that you met someone from gay.com, most people think that you met them to have sex. If you say someone is just your friend and you met them from gay.com, people think you met them, had sex, and now you're not having sex any more, or if you are, you're not dating, so it's just a free sex thing.

I'm in the 10% of people who, when I'm on gay.com, my objective is not to find sexual partners. My objective is to find decent people to talk to and with whom I could perhaps be friends. I'm not opposed to dating them if they turn out to be very cool, but that's not my starting goal.

So, I met this guy and he's nice enough. We hang out now and then and it's fun, yadda yadda yadda. Not best friends or anything, but a nice person to know.

It was his birthday last night and I think it pretty much sucked, but I think he had a good time.

First, he told me to meet him and his friends at a bar on the lower east side called Motor City something. It was actually a pretty cool bar, but the clientel was kind of wierd. Hipsterish, but not. I don't know.

Anyway, after an hour of dealing with the orange trains, I finally got there and he wasn't around. I called his cell phone but there was no answer. I went in and got a beer and text messaged him asking where they were. No answer.

I sat there for 30 minutes nursing that beer before I decided I would call some other folks and see what they're up to. I didn't know where the party was going to be, so I figured he'd just have to have a happy birthday without me. But I couldn't reach one other person and I decided to try to call him again.

The connection was bad, so I had to try a couple of times and finally he answered. I was like, "Where are you guys?"

And he was like, "We're ordering dinner. Where are you?"

And I said, "Well, I was at the bar you told me to meet you at, but now I'm walking toward Houston; I'm near Katz's."

He was apologetic and told me to meet them around the corner at this over-styled pizza joint called Pala. There's an accent over the second A.

The place is nice. Don't get me wrong. It's very cool. But for a place that serves mostly just pizza, it's too nice. I'll probably recommend it to some people.

Anyway, I get there and the restaurant allegedly has no more chairs. After standing for about 5 minutes and causing a huge commotion in the dining room, they miraculously found me a chair from another table.

I joined my friend, one of his coworkers (this adorable straight guy), one of the straight guy's friends (She was like Morgan Fairchild, but with dark hair. Very posh, pretentious, and prone to absolutely vicious gossip. Not to mention loud, opinionated, and foolish.) and one of my friend's gay friends who 1) has an absolutely incredible body and 2) was my friend's chaperone for the evening to make sure he got home OK.

That guy's body was the best thing from the entire evening. He was wearing jeans that fit him well and a tiny, almost transparent, printed Tee. You could almost smell Chelsea on the man, that's how he was. And he had an oddly high-pitched voice. I have a high-pitched voice, I think, but his was REALLY high and he sounded like he was using baby talk much of the time. Whatever, he was a complete gym rat and had awesome arms, great chest, perfect back... the whole deal. When I got bored with all the people or whatever was going on, I would just remember him going up the stairs ahead of me or something.

Once seated and having placed my order, we began chatting and the question of how we met came up. I said, "On gay.com. We met just as frien--" but before I could even finish, I was interrupted. The conversation was chaotic to begin with, but the Birthday Boy was clearly uncomfortable with that line of talk. I expressed my confusion to him in an aside. He said, "It's complicated."

If people think I'm having sex with him, so what? It seems to me like he should be pleased to have people think that. I'm attractive, smart, successful. If you're banging me, you must be doing something right. And I don't care who his friends think I'm having sex with.

But he would have none of it. He insisted that I tell people that I met him through work. He and I work in similar industries, so it's plausible.

I'm not a good liar, but at his request, I was willing to misdirect people. Here's how it goes:

"So, how do you know Birthday Boy?"
"I work for an interactive marketing agency."
"Ohhh..."

And if they don't get it, I say, "Birthday Boy works in marketing strategy at XYZ company and I work for an interactive marketing agency. We specialize in online marketing strategy and execution."

And that puts it to rest. Usually people aren't too keen to demand more precision in their casual conversations, so it works.

So, we sat at the pizza place for a while and I asked, "How far is your party from here? I didn't write it down or anything because I was coming to meet you guys."

It was revealed that no one, not even the birthday boy, knew where the party was to be. Fortunately, we did reach someone by cell phone who did, but not before making a couple of laps back and forth along Houston.

That kind of poor planning irritates me to death. I got the impression that one or two other people in the small group were bothered by it, too.

Did I mention that the birthday boy was sober this whole time? He wasn't flighty because he was impaired. He's just flighty.

So, we find the party and we have to tell the bouncer what party we're with so we can get a wristband.

*sigh*

Birthday boy is nice, but he always wants to go to these places with bouncers who want to see if you're on the list and all that. What difference does it make if I'm on a list or not?

Whatever.

So, it turns out that I know no one at this party. His friends that I did know, didn't show up for two hours. So, I spent two hours standing around misleading people about how I know the Birthday Boy for reasons that aren't clear to me. And when I would try to talk to the gym bunny, he was just awkward and strange, so I went to talk to some of the ladies.

Ladies love me.

Someone brought their mom and I talked to her for a while. Strange.

One of the lady bartenders gave me a free drink, too. That was cool. I don't know why she did it; we didn't spend any time talking or anything. When I went up to order another round she just said, "It's on me." I said, "Thanks" and left her $4.

Anyway, that part of the evening went on for a long time and then I realized that we were actually stalling. There had been rumors that we were going to go to another club to hang out, but for some reason we weren't leaving. There was a lot of stalling and more rounds of drinks... yadda yadda yadda.

Eventually, I guess the person who needed to leave, left, and the Birthday Boy, the Gym Bunny, and a new, random guy and I left the bar.

Then, we fought with some stupid chicks over a cab. And we met this other girl that Birthday Boy knew whose birthday was last night, too.

Oh! Get this bit of insipid drama: So, this girl has the same birthday, but Birthday Boy invited her to his party. She declined his invitation on Evite saying, "Sorry I can't come! It's my birthday, too, and I'm having a party, too!" Actually, it was probably like, "Srry, cnt come. My bday 2 & having a party 2!" or some such garbage. Well! It turns out that she also sent out an invite to Birthday Boy and he replied with something similar, but she DELETED his comment. Birthday Boy thinks she did it because she didn't want him advertising his party on HER invitation.

Let that sink in before you read the next part.

And that girl and some of her friends (not the ones we fought with over a cab) were trying to catch a cab. We got one first and Birthday Boy called out to them as we passed, "I love you, Birthday Girl!" Apparently, this was for the purpose of bragging that we got a cab first.

Yeah. Ridiculous.

So, we're in a cad headed over to the west side now. 28th and 10th, actually. I HATE the bars/clubs over there. The neighborhood is seedy and the clubs suck and the crowd is annoying. There are cops everywhere, and they even block off some of the blocks and put up huge flood lights. I don't know why, exactly, but probably so the cops can see the drug deals or rapes happening and intervene before someone gets too pregnant or high.

But we go.

We're supposed to meet some people in ReTox. We can't get in, though, because there's a bouncer with a list.

It's 3:30 and I am on the verge of calling it a night, but a couple of these clubs have decent dancing, so I thought it might be worth it ti hang for a bit.

Birthday Boy is blowing up everyone's cell phone who might know the guy who promotes that club and had invited us down to check it out. Whatever. We couldn't get in.

So, then we walk down to another bar, The Pink Elephant, maybe. We can't get in.

We walk down to Home or Bed or something and we can't get in.

We walk to Crobar and we can't get in.

We walked to four or five different places, but since it was 4 AM at that point, the doors of most places were closed. Besides, you can't get in unless you know people anyway.

Get this: some people would come out of the club, ostensibly to chat on their cell phones, buy some more drugs, smoke a cigarette, or something, but I think they were there just to show off that they could come and go from the club as they please.

The crowd in that area is always strange to me. Very smarmy, pretentious, insincere, and seething with some sort of barely contained anger about something. I always think I'm about to see a fight.

After walking back and forth and up and down and all over the place and trying to call people, we snag a flier from some dude for the club Pasha. Danny Tenaglia was DJing there last night. I have some remixes by him, so I knew the name. I still didn't think it was important.

So, we get in the cab and everyone is like, "40th and 10th!" The cabby doesn't know where the hell we're trying to get. I take the flier and I'm like, "This says 46th," and the cabby says, "Oh yes! That's between 11th and 12th."

Off we go.

We get there. We have to stand in line. Thank goodness there's no cover. All these stupid places usually charge $20 cover just to get into their loud, dark, sweaty den of noise.

We get in and a man pats me down. At one point, he actually pushes his hand against my perenium. That's the place between my testicals and my anus. I didn't even get a thank you.

And then Gym Bunny gets stopped by the pat down guy. They went through his pockets in great detail. It is 4:15 am and I am ready to go. I actually had said I was leaving earlier during the walking and not getting anywhere, but Birthday Boy begged me to stay out a little longer. So, I did, hoping I would get to hear some good dance music soon.

Not a chance.

Danny Tenaglia was there. I saw him in the booth. But...

Pasha is too dark. The music is ENTIRELY too loud. It's so loud that I really wanted to leave immediately because I was afraid my hearing would be damaged. It was so loud that the bass actually interfered with my balance.

I was sober by this point, my last whisky and coke having been about 3 hours ago, so my patience for the crowd was thin.

The music was TERRIBLE.

Oh and they would spray the room with fog. So much fog that I could not see my hand in front of my face. That's not a cliche. I put my hand in front of my face and I couldn't see it even though it was almost touching my nose. And the fog wasn't made of air I could breathe, either. I think it was CO2. I wasn't going to suffocate, but the suddenly decreases in oxygen content made me gasp.

The music was TERRIBLE. I think I mentioned it. It was repetitious. It mostly consisted of a beat and some random noises. It was awful awful awful. It was also undanceable.

But the crowd seemed to love it. The crowd also seemed to be in an altered mental state.

At 5, I was like, "Happy Birthday, Birthday Boy. I gotta go."

And I walked back to my apartment.

I hope he had a good time. I didn't think it was worth it. I could have had a better time sitting at home watching Cartoon Network or the Sci FI channel.

Sorry for the long post of whining about how I wasted a good night's sleep of my own volition. I could have told you more stuff about it, but I think I got it out of my system.

I Wanna Take You to a Gay Bar! GAY BAR! GAY BAR!

Last night, Pink Martini and I did a little pub crawl.

We started sort of early on the East Side at a little Irish Pub (complete with real Irish people!) called Molly's. We both had burgers and I tried a really watery English beer. I don't remember the name but it wasn't that great.

Then, we headed to Beauty Bar. That was a mistake. It was crawling with hipsters.

Have I told you about Pink Martini? She's a punk chick with lots of tattoos. Last night she was rockin' a pair of jeans, a tank top and a pink sweater. I was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather motocross-style jacket.

To say that we were out of place at Beauty Bar is to underestimate how hipster hipsters can be. And it was PACKED full of them.

So, after a quick whiskey and coke, we ditched that place and headed down to 14th street to a place without a name. It was a pool bar and I had some beer with a name I don't think I can spell. It was something like "ylingling." It was very flavorful.

The next stop was a place across the street from the no-name place to another no-name place.

This new place was very posh. Some hipsters managed to sneak in, but it looked like they were weekend hipsters because they had decent haircuts and some of their clothes actually matched.

Pink Martini and I sat in a couple of overstuffed chairs and chatted before kicking it over to the next, no-name place. I kind of liked this bar, but the problem was that there was almost no one there. It was cool, though, because it was an overtly mixed crowd of straight people and gay people.

The new place sucked. It was overflowing with college kids. It was dark, loud, and the crowd was obnoxious. Again, this crowd was definitely mixed between straight and gay, but the gay was nervous and in denial. And did I mention they were college kids? I hate those.

So, we bitched about the idiots around us from a sofa under a big window for a little bit and I decided it was getting late and I needed to head up and across town. Pink Martini and I started the stroll back to her place.

We started back and we passed a place called "Nowhere Bar." Pink Martini asked if I had ever been and I said I hadn't, so she said we should drop in for a bit to look around.

It was a gay bar.

A big, hairy, mostly old, gay bar. Although, that is a little closer to my speed than the college kids, I really wonder where the big, hairy, low-to-mid-30's gay bar is. Ok maybe not SO hairy, but you get my meaning.

The crowd at Nowhere Bar was kind of scary.

Here's what I decided I want: A mostly gay bar that has fair to good lighting and doesn't play the music TOO loudly with maybe some real Irish people and some people actually paying attention to the game on television. But the crowd shouldn't be TOO self-conscious; it's not necessary to get dressed up in your best leather jock strap/mis-matched vintage shirt/drunken bimbo to go out, meet nice people, have a couple of drinks that aren't $15 for 6 oz of fluid, and enjoy yourself.

Causality is a Good Thing

Aren't you glad people don't just get pregnant spontaneously?

Like, you could be sitting there and suddenly a baby comes flying out.

What if you were wearing pants?

See, causality is good. Magic would be really bad.

I Think...

If dogs knew how much some people like them, they wouldn't try to bite people so much or act like dumbasses.

Oh gross

Ok, I have just learned that the guy who sits in the cubicle across from me chews loudly.

I'm not sure what does it, but the bone structure or shape of their skull or something for some people conducts a lot of sound and transmits the sounds of their mastication out to the world.

I hate that sound. It is slightly nauseating.

And thanks to the very low walls that separate my cube from the one next to me, I get to sit here and listen to him eat his Super Crunchy Crunch Mix cereal or whatever.

GAH! Thoughtlessness!

I put on the wrong color shoes this morning!!!

My outfit is completely shot to hell now.

Not only will people not think I belong on Manhattan, they might think I'm straight.

Damned brown shoes with a black watch...

*grumble* *grumble*

My New Desk

I was commanded to move to a new cube today.

I dislike changes like this especially because my new cube is much smaller.

But the most wonderful thing about my new cube is that when I look up and to my right, I can gaze out of the window at the Empire State Building.

It's lit up in red, white, and blue tonight.

I love you, New York!

Where Have all the Good Men Gone and Where Are All the Gods?

Don't you sometimes wish you were at home dancing in your underwear and singing Bonnie Tyler songs into your hairbrush?

I know I do.

Rhubarb! Rhubarb! Rhubarb!

I just heard that Merideth Viera spilled red wine on Martha Stewart's white blouse this morning on the Today Show. Apparently, they were doing a segment on removing stains and ironing and Merideth thought it would be fun to play with the glass of red wine and she spilled it on Martha and Math Lauer.

I am disappointed that Martha's personal assistant didn't just bust a cap in Merideth right there.

Oh well. I'm sure she'll get what's coming to her.

Sorry, Merideth. It's been nice knowing you.

Fun Fact: The word "Rhubarb" used to be used by radio show actors to give the auditory impression of a mob.

Sleep

OMG. I slept so well last night.

Yesterday started for me at 6am when I got up and got ready and headed to the gym to work out with my trainer.

On Monday, my trainer and I were headed to one of the weight machines and I said, "Did you see Mighty Mouse this morning? He has great arms and chest. I want that." Of course, my trainer asked who Might Mouse is and I had to explain that he's this one guy, 6'4" prolly somewhere in the 210 lb range, black hair, who works out around us most days. He wore a Might Mouse shirt on the second day I saw him.

So, my trainer was like, "What? Wait. You want big chest and arms?"

And I was like, "Yes."

And he was like, "I though you wanted like a model figure. Slim and toned."

And I said, "Sure. A model. The kind with big chest and arms and shoulders."

And he informed me that we would change my workouts starting next week. Well, he actually started changing my workouts yesterday. It was great, but I was sooooo tired.

And then I worked for 11 hours. 11 hours of hell. At least three systems were down or malfunctioning yesterday. One of the dev teams ignored my directions on a project and wiped out one of my customer's database tables and the import to restore it takes 20 hours. (Yes, it's THAT much data.)

So, I left the office at 8 and headed back to the gym with my friend D so that she and I could do cardio.

I got home and ate my dinner around 10:30 last night and climbed into bed.

And I slept so well last night. Probably a little too well; I didn't want to wake up this morning. I had very fun, happy dreams and my body rested well.

so, here we go again!