Flibbertigibbet

It's Not Rocket Science

I went on a date with a rocket scientist last night.

!!!

I know, right?

He says being a rocket scientist is overrated, but I told him that most people don't rate science highly enough.

Last night, he and I did not discuss rocket science or anything, but I did ask him yesterday to make me an invisible rocket like Wonder Woman's jet because I was reading about some new material that does negative refraction. (It involves electrons and stuff.) He said it's outside, but, of course, I haven't seen it.

He's also French. Not that rip-off Canadian-Quebequois kind of French either. He's like right off the boat from Paris. This is neither a good nor a bad thing, but an interesting thing because I've never met any one who's French before.

I wish I spoke French.

He seems to have a good sense of humor, but I'm not sure I understand everything he's saying and I can't be sure he understands the subtlety of what I'm saying either. Although, I can't say that I'm really all that subtle.

He had a great plan for our first meeting/date, too. We went to the Buffy Sing-along. Could there be anything more fun and nutty for a first date? The only problem with that thing is that it takes place at midnight, which is very late in my opinion. I am not a night owl.

He taught me how to say "Vampire Slayer" in French. Tuer du Vampir. I don't know if I spelled that correctly, but I have been working hard on pronouncing that U properly. (From what I can tell, the French U is further back and near the roof of the mouth. It sounds like it's mixed with the American long E sound. Also, I didn't know this, but French T's seem to get "eaten" when they aren't at the front of a word. And ALSO I am going to guess that the unconjugated form of French verbs is used also for the gerund form of the same verb like in Spanish. Most of these points I'm guessing based on my English conversations with him, so I could be drawing conclusions without sufficient data.)

I noticed that he seems to have an iris coloboma. He didn't behave as if it affects his vision in any significant way, really, but I'm not an expert in such things. I had to figure out "coloboma" when I got home last night. (Thank you, Google!) And so I learned that iris colobomas are usually accompanied by retinal malformation as well. But I know he likes doing outdoor things like hiking and surfing, which would involve exposure to bright light, so... I dunno. I might ask him about it, but I don't know how sensitive he is to such things. It doesn't bother me, so I regard it merely as a topic of interest.

(It's rude to treat people like science projects, isn't it? Sorry. [You all kind of are science projects to me, though.] )

Apart from that trivial malformation of the eye that actually took me all evening to notice, dude is hot. He's about as tall as I am. He has brown eyes and dark hair and a nice strong jaw. From what I could tell, his body is *well* fit, too!

Unlike the last guy, he is actually an atheist. I haven't completely sussed out his politics. He definitely leans left a bit, which I suppose isn't a surprise, but I'm not sure how much.

When I mentioned my thoughts on global warming, he didn't freak out or anything. He didn't even attempt to set me straight. I didn't really get into depth about it, but still. If someone says, "I don't care what causes global warming because I'm not worried about it either way," most people at least make a comment. I think maybe he thought I was joking.

I probably shouldn't blog about this. You know how the internet is and with the changes I mentioned before, he'll likely find out about this post. (Maybe I will hide this post when those changes are closer to reality.)

But I had such a nice time.

We sat very close to one another at the bar before the show and during the movie we kept doing the legs and arms touching thing. But as strange as it may sound, I don't really like for things to get too physical too quickly. (This isn't the first time I haven't even kissed on a first date-- although in this day and age, many people take my unwillingness to express physical affection as a snub rather than judging by my words and facial expression.)

But! We're going out to dinner tonight. I want to think of something else we can do together, too. I don't really feel like just going to dinner and then to a bar or something. I would much rather go somewhere that I can actually see him and hear him talk.

He's an interesting fellow and I'm happy to spend some time with him. We'll see how it goes!

Overheard at the Office

Tech Guy: So, you can access that server and just add the files.

Flibby: Um. No, I can't.

Tech Guy: Yes, you can.

Flibby: I really don't think I can.

Tech Guy: Have you tried?

Flibby: No.

Tech Guy: Try.

Flibby: How?

Tech Guy: Open this application...

Flibby: You know I don't have an account on that application, right?

Tech Guy: Oh. Well, then you can't do it.

Flibby: I didn't think so.

Under Pressure! Pushing Down on Me! Pressing Down on You!

I think there are some big changes looming on the horizon for this site. I won't say more right now, but I think you'll like it.

Meanwhile, life is something of a bore right now apart from all my friends' lives being made of suck.

So Much Sadness

A friend of mine told me that this guy he's been dating for a little while now has suddenly stopped calling him back. Who just stops calling? Jackasses, that's who.

And this morning, my good friend told me that she and her boyfriend of a few years broke up last night.

Life is about change and progress and growth and moving forward. I get that.

But I really don't like it that so many of my friends are having difficult times right now.

Snake Bit

I don't know where it comes from but there's an expression I've heard in the south, "snake bit." It means something like bad luck. If you're snake bit, you're a person to whom bad things are continually happening.

I am not snake bit. I have the distinct pleasure of being a person to whom very, very few bad things ever happen. Sure, I have minor set backs here and there, but by and large my life really is charmed.

I have a new friend here in New York who is snake bit, though.

First, a crazy person came into his building, mugged him and his boyfriend while threatening them with a box cutter. He was chased by his would-be killer and he fell down some stairs and broke his leg very badly.

The mugger got into his building because the lobby door was not locked or monitored. My friend filed suit against the owner of the building for negligence and, last week, the court found the owner guilty, but 0% financially liable. I have no idea what twists of logic brought them to that conclusion, but there it is.

The actual mugging took place eight years ago but my friend had to undergo several painful surgeries to recover and accrued massive hospital bills and legal fees in the process. It also cost him his relationship.

And then on Friday, my friend was attacked by someone else who broke his jaw.

He's a new friend, so I don't know all the ins and outs of his life, but just these few things lead me to say that he's snake bit.

It's just a horrible string of events and my heart goes out to him.

Shock Shock Me

This weekend, I fell victim to marketing and downloaded a song from iTunes after seeing it on a Verizon commercial.

It is called "Love Today" by Mika and I love it. I don't care what you say.

When I'm listening to it, I like to be going somewhere because I get to look around at my wonderful city and its colorful denizens. It makes me smile. I was walking to the subway on Sunday listening to this song and a man with hair the color of a nuclear powered pumpkin. It was sweet, but I looked away. I will say this, though: the color of his hair really made his blue eyes stand out.

Anyway, this song is great and you should listen to the commercials and go buy it yourself.

I want to tell you, though. The lyrics may sound like they include curse words, but they don't.

It says, "Mama, Mama, Pappa, shock shock me. Shock shock me." I thought it said, "Mother, motherfucker. Suck, suck me. Suck suck me." And I was quite shocked because obviously that wasn't in the commercial or the little clip iTunes lets you hear.

And the song mentions sex with prostitutes and young women (underaged?) but because it's sung by this man in falsetto you think it's like the Scissor Sisters trying out a new euphemism for sodomy. My point is that the lyric "suck suck me" isn't without supporting context. But I assure you, when I looked up the lyrics this morning, it wasn't that. It was about him waiting until the girl's parents leave to have sex with her.

I'm not really selling this song well, am I?

It's a catchy tune, though, for real.

Happy St. Pat's?

I went out on the town with some friends last night. We found ourselves in a bar called Stout, which is a large, Irish/English bar. Well, last night, it was completely overrun by Irish folks.

I'm not talking about people like me who are generations removed from Ireland. (My Y chromosome went through Ireland over 200 years ago and before that it was in Scotland. Religious persecution.) I'm talking about people who just got off the boat.

And the bar played only Irish music, which really just means we listened to a CD by U2, a CD by the Coors, and a CD by the Cranberries on shuffle.

I guess it was a fun time, but the bar was full of obnoxious people. There were many attractive guys there, but for every attractive one, there were three unattractive ones. Never mind that they were all straight.

Well, one of my friends and I decided we had had enough and wanted to go home. It was an ORDEAL.

Forget the fact that the streets were covered in slush that, in places, was up to a foot deep. Fortunately, I wore boots.

To get to my friend's house, you have to take the N or the W. Well, the N and the W had no service between 42nd and Queensboro Plaza, which meant that we had to get on the train, get off the train and go to the 7 train and take it to QUeensboro Plaza and then get off the train again and wait for another N or W to go on out to Astoria. AND each train was slow coming and would stop and wait at the stop.

It took over an hour to get home.

My friends have asked if I want to go to the Parade today. There is still slush everywhere. The trains are still crap. And I'm sure that the Irish folks are trying to keep the gays quiet for their parade -- not that I think the gays are listening. But I'm not going.

Instead, when my cartoons are over, I'm going to crack open a book, snuggle down under my covers and read for the better part of the day. Happy St. Patrick's Day to you, too!

Ouch

Some time around the middle of last week, I hurt something on the left side of my chest. I think maybe it's a pulled muscle that happened from all the coughing I did while sick.

It hurts to cough now, which I still have to do a few times a day. And I can't do crunches.

I'm kind of afraid to do any lifting for a couple of weeks with my chest in this condition; I surely do not want to make this worse.

Don't Let's Talk About the Weather, Earnest!

Ok, so I do not understand the Google weather. I looked at it this morning and this is what it said:

How can the high temperature for the day be 55 while the current temperature is 64?

CRAZY!

Happy Anniversary!!

I moved to New York one year ago today on the Ides of March!

WOOHOO!

Overheard at the Office

Coworker: You don't want free coffee?

Flibby: I don't drink straight coffee.

[pause]

All my coffee is [waving arms and wiggling in his chair] GAAAAAAAYYYYY!!!

300

I saw the movie 300 last weekend. I enjoyed it. I felt it had some weaknesses in terms of ideology, but I didn't expect much from a Frank Miller story. In fact, I was actually impressed and happy with how many good ideas it really had.

But I don't intend to comment on the movie at any length. I just want to say one thing.

Some people have complained that the movie exploits the age-old foolish stereotype that everyone in ancient history spoke with an English accent.

First of all, I'm pretty sure that everyone with half a brain understands that the Greeks didn't speak English at all. I am allowing, of course, for the fact that many people seem to lack half a brain and are therefore excluded from consideration.

Second, and more important to me, Leonides was rocking a SCOTTISH accent, not English. Even though his brogue was slight, it was marked and unmistakable... unless you are one to mistake such things.

Next thing you know people are going to start mistaking South Africans for Australians! Surely those would be the end times.

Smack is Whack, too

I just found out that I used to live next to a Methadone Clinic.

How Do You Spell Relief?

I am officially unpacked from my move now. My closet system is installed. My clothes are put away. All my junk is put away.

There are a few minor odds and ends that I'll take care of after I see how I use things, but I can finally feel at home in my room. It can be my sanctuary from the roommates.

And with my steady progress along with my roommate's help in completing our home-improvement projects, this place is really shaping up and starting to feel like a clean, comfy home.

A Dirty Joke

Two priests are in a Vatican bathroom using the urinals. One of them looks at the other one's penis and notices there's a Nicoderm patch on it.

He looks at the other priest and says, "I believe you're supposed to put that patch on your arm or shoulder, not your penis."

The other one replies, "It's working just fine. I'm down to two butts a day."

Ok, Seriously

If you are one of these people who carries a gigantic bag around on the subway or sidewalk of New York City, I need you to understand something: People will run into it. They may not do it on purpose, but because it is a gigantic bag taking up an inordinate amount of space and you are moving about it is bound to happen that someone will clip it.

It will not help you to attempt to stare a New Yorker down and if you attempt to demand an apology you are likely to receive a verbal outburst that is quite different from that.

So, what you need to do is either stop carrying giant bags or carry a giant bag and just resign yourself to getting jostled about now and then.

Lotto

Several of my coworkers have pooled their resources and gone in together to buy lotto tickets. They have 54 tickets, apparently.

The odds are not that great that you'll win the lottery if you buy a ticket. In fact, they are woefully bad. There's a 1:175,711,536 chance that they'll win the jackpot with just one ticket.

When I explained that I am not very interested in contributing to this venture, I was regaled by tales of what my coworkers will do with their share of the $370 million that is currently in the jackpot.

I don't know why they don't play the lotto ALL the time if they really think the odds are so good that they'll win.

Amy! Amy! Amy! (Outro)

This is from Amy Winehouse's album Frank. It's a super-fun song.

Amy! Amy! Amy! (Outro)

Attract me
Til it hurts to concentrate,
Distract me
Stop me doin' work I hate
Just to show him how it feels
I walk past his desk in heels
One leg resting on the chair
From the side he pulls my hair.

Amy Amy Amy
Although I've been here before

Amy Amy Amy
You're just too hard to ignore
Masculine you spin a spell
I think you'd wear me well
Amy Amy Amy
Wheres my moral parallel

It takes me
Half an hour to write a verse
He makes me
Imagine it from bad to worse
My weakness from the other sex
Every time his shoulders flex
The way the shirt hangs off his back
My train of thought spins right off track

Amy Amy Amy
Although I've been here before
Amy Amy Amy
He's just too hard to ignore
Masculine he spins a spell
I think he'd wear me well
Amy Amy Amy
Wheres my moral parallel

His own style
Right down to his Diesel jeans
Immobile
I can't think by any means
Underwear peeks out the top
I'll let you know where you should stop
From the picture my mind drew
I know I'd look good on you

Amy Amy Amy
Although I've been here before
Amy Amy Amy
Your just too hard to ignore
Masculine you spin a spell
I think you'd wear me well
Amy Amy Amy
Wheres my moral parallel

Creative energy abused
All my lyrics go unused
When I clock black hair blue eyes
I drift off I fantasize

Amy Amy Amy
Although I've been here before

Amy Amy Amy
He's just too hard to ignore
Masculine he spins a spell
I think he'd wear me well

Amy Amy Amy
Where's my moral parallel

Amy Amy Amy
Although I've been here before

Amy Amy Amy
He's just too hard to ignore
Masculine he spins a spell
I think he'd wear me well

Amy Amy Amy
Wheres my moral parallel

Noisy

Are people who are talking in a foreign language noisy because that's how foreigners are or because they know that only a portion -- probably a small portion -- of the people around will understand them?

The Good News

300 opens this weekend!

Worst case scenario: I spend about 2 hours watching hot, sweaty muscle bears kick ass in their speedos.

Mmmm...

Goodbye!

My whole romance with The Cuban has been somewhat dramatic. Not dramatic in the sense that there was screaming and people flinging martinis in people's faces, but there has been a lot of talk and back and forth about things. And there's the whole "I have such strong passionate feelings" and the "Oh this inner torment and conflict" and yadda yadda yadda. Drama.

I guess that makes light of something that really shouldn't be made light of. I certainly do care for The Cuban quite a bit and he cares quite a bit for me.

In the modern way of thinking, those feeling trump everything including petty things like ideology. But I'm not a modern thinker, am I? I'm thinking about the future.

Well, The Cuban and I have exchanged goodbye emails. My hope is that my note offers a little more explanation and parries a weak barb that he tossed at me in his.

He wrote his first. They're both in the extended entry.

Hello there, I hope you are well. I didn't get to say goodbye so I figured I'd do it now. Even though we were together for a short time you made an impact on my life. The irony is that you never really asked what my religious beliefs are. It doesn't matter now because I know it can not be. So with that said, I wish you all the best.

I'll think of you often.

I love you.

The Cuban

I am doing reasonably well. I'm just getting over a bad cold that I've been fighting for a little over a week and a half now.

I actually did inquire after your religious beliefs once before we met, while we were just chatting, and a couple of times when we were dating. Your responses left things a little unclear at first because you said, "I'm not religious," meaning that although you do have faith, you do not practice. I foolishly took it to mean that you were some sort of agnostic. When I asked you why you wear a crucifix the first time, your answer implied that it was merely out of habit and not out of religious significance.

The question is largely moot because even after I found out with certainty that you do believe in God, I did not immediately break off the relationship. I tried to separate that aspect of you -- the part that accepts faith as reason enough for belief in something -- from all the things I enjoy about you. I think such a practice does a disservice to both of us.

You are who you are; the sum of all of your ideas, feelings, beliefs, passion, and even faith. It is your identity as the totality of those things that allows you to be you. If you took away one part of it, you would be something else, maybe only slightly different or maybe completely different, no one can know.

Love is an emotional response to the identification of one's highest, most treasured and sacred values in another person. For me, rationality is one such value. In a man I love, I must see an earnest dedication to truth, which can only be pursued by reason. Faith and reason are incompatible and mutually exclusive -- arguments and assertions to the contrary notwithstanding.

In order for me to try to love you in the way that you and I deserve, though, I would have to let that go.

I've spent my entire adult life searching for and seeking out truth and I've been very successful at it. It would not only be a shame but also a hideous betrayal of that effort to go against that truth in only venture in my life that could be more important, love.

I wish there were some brief way that I could explain that this isn't merely about "religious belief," but about one's fundamental methodology in life. Even if you decided that you would not claim a belief in God, just to be with me, the underlying issue would still be on the table. On the other side, if it were possible to claim a belief in God that was completely and utterly detached from every other aspect of your life, then it would not bother me -- but such a condition is next to impossible to identify.

You are and will always be dear to me and I wish you well. You have many qualities that I hope to find in a mate and I learned a lot from you. I took some emotional risks with you and I think they paid off. I enjoyed my time with you deeply and I will think of you often as well.

Thanks for everything

Flibby

Just to Be Safe an Open Letter to Baby Cthulu

Dear Baby Cthulu:

Please don't let me cough really hard and shit my pants at work today.

Smooches!
Flibby

An Open Letter to Baby Jesus

Dear Baby Jesus:

Please don't let me cough really hard and shit my pants at work today.

Smooches!
Flibby

N is for "Never" and W is for "We get there when we get there"

Apparently the Metropolitan Transportation Authority is not well-equipped to deal with rain. The trains out in my corner of Queens were an absolute mess.

I arrived at the platform at 8:05. By 8:30, I had watched three trains zoom right past my station without stopping. By 8:45, I had seen a fourth train go by and crossed the platform to get on a train going the other direction. Finally, I got on a train going in the right direction and I arrived at work at 9:20.

It took me an hour and fifteen minutes to make a commute that in ordinary rush-hour conditions usually only takes 30 minutes at most. The reason? Rain. It's raining.

For some reason the inclement weather caused the trains to get backed up and so the MTA decided to start skipping stops to get some of the trains back on schedule. I don't know why that made sense because it made pretty much everyone crowd onto the trains earlier in the route.

I recently learned that the NYC subway is ranked 7th of 11 world transit systems. But as much as I like to bitch about the MTA, I will point out that it moves over 7 million people every week day and it's the only system that runs 24/7 AND it only costs you $2 to ride it as far as you care to ride!

Beauty

Last night, as I was about to give in to the Nyquil-induced, cough-free slumber, I noticed that I can see a star from my bedroom window. Stars are rare in New York because there is so much city light. It was nice seeing the star.

But what is better than the star is what I saw when I woke up this morning. I looked out my window and looked across the river and saw the glorious skyline of Manhattan. There were some birds flapping about the Queensboro bridge and the whole scene was like a post card of pure potential and joyfully laughing anticipation.

This evening, I'm looking again at the city. The Empire State Building is lit in blue and white. She looks like a superstar at the Oscars in the perfect dress and elegant jewels.

And next to her is the Chrysler building shining like an entire constellation of stars.

I love this city.

When I look at it, my spirit soars and laughs. This city is the greatest creation ever to flow forth from the hand of man. It stands on the planet as a testament to everything heroic and good. It is eloquent and sublime, regal and awe-inspiring. I love watching the lights glitter in the crisp night.

It's supposed to start raining later tonight and I won't be able to see the individual lights, but through the clouds and water it will glow and warm the air and water and my soul.

I love this city so much.