Flibbertigibbet

STUPID PAN

There's a new Arby's commercial with river dancing chimpanzees.

I already don't like chimps, but to have them doing like the Lord of the Dance... it's just wrong. Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!

My Letter to Robin & Company

As you may recall, I wake up every morning to CNN HNN's Robin & Company.

I love Robin. She's pretty and she's perky. She's a little bit silly and a total sweetheart. When I first started watching her, I loved how she would call out "Good morning, sunshine!" as if she were really talking to me. Again, she's a little bit silly and a sweetheart, but I love it. So, I would say, "Good morning, Robin!"

Well, lately, she has been saying, "morningsunshine" and it's more like a cast-off phrase. I do NOT like that at all. It's insincere and I do not need that in the morning from my newscasters. So, I had to write a letter.

Hi, Robin!

I've been watching you for a few years now. I started watching when I lived in Jefferson, GA and for a long time you've been a dose of sunshine and sweetness even when I'm sleepy or the weather is gray. I especially look forward to hearing you chirp, "Good morning, sunshine!" and I used to say back to you, "Good morning, Robin!" and bounce out of bed. How could anyone stay sleepy or sad after that??

But lately, I've noticed that you've been saying your trademark "Good Morning, Sunshine" more like an afterthought. And it's rushed like "morningsunshine."

Now, as mentioned, I adore you but I would prefer that you not say it if you're going to say it like that. That is not really sunshine.

Please give Bobby, Jennifer, and Richard my best and thank your production staff as well.

Have a great day!

Sincerely
Flibbert

I hope she reads my note and takes it to heart because the "morningsunshine" thing really bugs me.

Too Clever by Half

If you've seen a trailer for Ben Stiller's new movie, The Heartbreak Kid, you may have noticed a guy wearing a red shirt that says "(1940 - 1980)".

These shirts are, apparently, all the rage. They were recommended in last Friday's Get Trio newsletter and now I see them in that movie, anyway.

The shirts are by Trong G. Nguyen and they're sold out in Brooklyn somewhere.

Humanitarians Not Heroes introduces "time-span" t-shirts that mark birth and death dates of notable artists and individuals, as well as significant events and eras in history.

The t-shirt in the movie is the years of John Lennon's life.

There's a certain geeky appeal to these shirts because the name of the figure whose birth and death years appear on the shirt is denoted on a tag that you cut off before you wear it, so unless someone already knows the years or is a good guesser (I figured out Jesus Christ, but only because it was presented to me in a list of years.) they won't know what it is. I guess this could be a good conversation starter, too.

But the hipsterish of it kind of annoys me.

It's definitely not very good design. The font is a regular old Courier -- or is it Courier New? There's nothing to them, really. All of the "creative" value in it is this whole putting the years of things. Makes one wonder if it's ever been done before. Not quite, I guess.

The name of the brand, Humanitarians not Heroes, and the description of the reason for the "design" scheme smack of relativism to me.

The numbers on each shirt represent both the specific and arbitrary. They hint at the actions and accomplishments of individuals as much as they are general reminders of our mortality. As markers of history, they consider such things as achievement, stardom, and ignominy. As just a bunch of numbers, they are vague (No where is the name of the individual disclosed except on the removable label card). It is up to us to ascribe a value to them. Here, they apply to chronological value - Time. It is numerical Time - the big dasher and parenthesizer of all things - that these shirts ultimate glorify. For worse or better.

I'm on the fence about this, really. Even if I don't like the idiotic reasons they give to explain these things, I do like the geekishness of it. I like the curiosity piquing aspect of it.

Anyway, now you know. This is me bringing you the latest in trends.

She Has What Where?

Mister Bookworm started watching the documentary Inside Deep Throat at his apartment at some point last week and when he got to my place, he wanted to watch the end of it. It was On Demand, and so he did and that was fine.

Except now, every time I fast forward one of my recorded shows on my DVR, it says that the show title is "Inside Deep Throat" and that it is one hour and 23 minutes into the show. It doesn't move to show that I'm fast-fowarding or rewinding either.

It just says "Inside Deep Throat."

It's SUPER annoying.

This is Your Brain Doing Flips

DEMON! DEMON! AAEEIIIIIIII!!!!

From Mister Bookworm

"This headline is five nouns!"

Those zany Brits!

New Heroes!

The second season of Heroes premiered this evening. WOOHOO!

I was really excited about this because most of the first season was such a delight. I hope that this season is as much fun, although I have to say that it's off to a slow, but intriguingly mysterious start.

The cheerleader lives in California now and she is being befriended by a new person with powers. He looks kind of weird to me. I am SO excited to see Veronica Mars show up with powers!

Mohinder is trying to infiltrate the bad guy company with the help of Bad Daddy and Cutie Cop Guy.

There are a couple of Mexican twins, one of which apparently causes some kind of massive, fatal hemorrhaging. (I've peeked at some of the teaser information and know that there is more to it than we've seen so far.)

Peter Nathan Patrelli is moping around over the apparent death of his brother. The end of the episode shows us that his brother, Peter, isn't dead, but just has amnesia and is in a shipping container in Ireland. By the way, his brother is SUPER cute with his short haircut.

Hiro is way back in the 17th century with his childhood hero, Takezo Kensei, who turns out to be a mercenary and a bit of a cad.

George Takei and Ando are waiting around in New York for Hiro to return. It's been four months, but George says he's patient. He's really old. Then he finds a picture of himself with that crazy symbol on it and he decides that a hit has been put out on his life. He's right and by the end of the episode George Takei is dead and we don't know who did it or why. Very mysterious!

Evil mom has a hit out on her, too, but we don't see what happens to her.

We didn't get to see stupid lady with the evil twin or her phase shifting husband and technopathic son. (They'll be here later.)

We also haven't seen Sylar. Sylar's off-Heroes career is taking off. He's been in all kinds of magazines lately.

So, that's about the sum of it.

I'm watching Journeyman now because I haven't bothered to change the channel. So far it seems ok, but I don't know if I'll watch it because it's kind of weird. I don't like when people accidentally start time traveling.

Stop It, Verizon!

Last night I saw a Verizon commercial in which the announcer said, "Now, Brett can send message unlimitedly!"

Send messages unlimitedly.

*sigh*

Just stop.

It's Like the Robot, But on Drugs

Let's Meet for Coffee!

Thanks to Get Trio, I have discovered this website: http://www.a.placebetween.us/.

When you want to meet your friends in the middle, this website uses Googley maps to help you find spots for things like coffee or dinner.

And it works for places outside of NYC, too! I found out that there are some cute little coffee places in North Carolina should I want to meet up with my mom for a chat.

Super cool!

You Know What I Think Would Be Cool?

I think it would be cool, if there were a wrist watch that could scan/photo things and use that image as the background for the watch face. Then, you could have your own face as the face on your watch! Or you could scan your shirt and then your watch face would match your outfit perfectly!

Take it a step further. I think it would be cool if you had articles of clothing that could do the same thing, except also allow you to modify the hue/saturation/brightness/contrast on the captured image. Then, you could have a tie with an interesting pattern and a perfect match to the rest of your outfit. Or cufflinks. Or whatever.

Make It Work!

Manhattan User's Guide has a handy set of productivity tools in today's post.

I'm going to try to look at:

30 Boxes
Airset
Gootodo
Backpack

I'll let you know what I think.

Update: Mister Bookworm is the one who directed me to MUG, by the way.

Telling

You can always tell that someone is unfamiliar or even hostile to Objectivism when they describe Objectivist philosophy with the adjective "Randian."

It's like when someone calls me at home and mispronounces my name, I know that they're a telemarketer.

I Should Be Getting Ready for Work

I'm really dragging this morning, so of course I sat down to surf the internet instead of getting dressed for work.

Well, I'm going to do that in just a minute. I wanted to show you a cool website first. It's Signal Map! It maps out signal strength for cell phone companies.

Cool, right?

Hat tip: Thrillist

Blasphemy

Since blasphemy is so popular these days, I'd like to say something: I have yet to have any pizza in New York that I would call "good."

I've had pizza in Little Italy, too. I've had pizza from several places with Italian names and several who claim to the THE original Famous Ray's.

All of it is been bland, overcooked, and greasy.

I did have a bit of pizza named "florentine" that didn't completely offend me a couple of weeks ago, but I don't see myself asking to go for pizza any time soon.

Maps of Strange

Mister Bookworm sent me this link to Maps of Strange this afternoon.

I thought the rooftop airstrip in Manhattan was kind of a stretch, but I looked it up in regular Google Maps and it's there! WTF? Can someone explain this to me?

Matt Chancellor, if you're reading this, what little plane do you know that could manage this? Does this seem real to you?

My coworker and I are skeptical of the idea of a plane scooting around Manhattan landing on a rooftop, particularly in light of the highly publicized plane crash that killed Corey Lidle last year.

Ok. My picture is really long, so I have to figure out ways to make this post longer.

I also like
- the crop circles advertising
- the Welcome to Cleveland sign that is on a rooftop in Milwaukee.

A couple of them are just people who don't understand Google Maps, like the tipped building entry is a result of piecing the maps together from multiple photos. Because the satellite took the picture from different locations, the lines of perspective don't always work well together. Cities with lots of tall buildings illustrate this "problem" best.

Also, a couple of them seem to me like the satellite caught a reflection of the sun on the surface of the ocean, but the readers of that site seem to think there are UFOs.

There are several other photos where people just don't seem to know how Google Maps are made. But it's a super cool site!

Driven

I absolutely hate driving in traffic. I also hate driving where there are stop lights and things.

I often say, "I hate driving," but that's not really the case. I don't like driving around other people and I don't like having to stop. I really just like to go fast and zoom around places.

In Georgia, I used to love driving in the early evening in the fall with my windows rolled down and my radio turned way up -- provided the traffic wasn't very heavy. Highway 85 was great because the police didn't patrol it very often. I would regularly drive to Atlanta at an average speed at about 80 mph.

As long as people follow the general rules of courtesy (don't be slow in the fast lane!) then it was a pleasure to move along the road.

Before I had decided to move to NYC, I was giving serious thought to buying a motorcycle. Buddhista had convinced me to put a Honda Nighthawk at the top of my list of bikes to consider.

I generally dislike being "in transit" because if I'm going somewhere, I want to be where I'm going and not in between where I was and where I want to be. But I understand the joy of going -- when I'm not focused on being at my destination.

Anyway, getting to my point. Some people have a much stronger ability to focus on the going and they like cars. They like dealing with car stuff and tinkering under the hood and all that. (I do not like tinkering under the hood.) And there is a really fun show on television that reader Matt Chancellor directed me to. It's called Top Gear from the BBC.

They are a hoot! They do all kinds of crazy things with cars. In this clip, they race an Evo against a bobsled.

There's a video on YouTube of them pitting a Range Rover against a tank, too, that's lots of fun.

So, anyway, if you like cars, you might want to watch this show because it seems really fun.

Speaking of Punctuation

Mister Bookworm taught me just last week that for words that end in s, you still add apostrophe s in order to make them possessive. Examples:

boss's
James's
jackass's

Apparently, among those whose job it is to make these things right, this is the practice.

Frankly, I find three S's in a row to be hideous and off putting. So, I went and looked it up and it would seem that this is a flexible rule. According to U of Calgary "If the noun is singular and ends in "s," you may form the possessive either by adding apostrophe s or by simply adding the apostrophe. ... The exceptions to this flexible rule are Jesus, Moses, and Zeus, which traditionally form the possessive with just the apostrophe."

But people from Canadia often do things differently. I was always taught growing up to drop the S, but people in the south often do things differently as well.

Other websites contradict our frozen friends to the north.

Many websites I found mentioned that use of the apostrophe S is determined by whether or not the word ends in a Z sound or an S sound. Z's get the apostrophe S and S's get just the apostrophe.

I'm inclined to believe Mister Bookworm over a buncha Canucks, but I still don't like ever seeing three S's in a row.

Of course, now we have another issue: I was always taught that you use an apostrophe when making some things plural, like 1980's and DVD's. According to Mister Bookworm and others, this is incorrect. Mister Bookworm kind of freaked out a little bit when I asked him about this. I had to get the smelling salts and when he came to, he did note that you do write '80s.

Incidentally, the New York Times has been cited by some as misusing apostrophes to make things plural.

The question of making plural letters stumped Mister Bookworm. I like apostrophe S for pluralizing letters. I did it all through this post because I hate the look of "Ss," but one website said:

An apostrophe is also used to form some plurals, especially the plural of letters and digits. Raoul got four A's last term and his sister got four 6's in the ice-skating competition. This is particularly useful when the letter being pluralized is in the lower case: "minding one's p's and q's" or "Don't forget to dot your i's." (In a context in which the plural is clear, apostrophes after upper-case letters are not necessary: "He got four As, two Bs, and three Cs.")

So much ado about such a little mark!

Update: In reading my post, Mister Bookworm has gone into fits. He says that 1980's indicates the possessive. I would argue that when I used it above, I have indicated clearly that it is plural, because I said it's plural. I would actually argue in most cases that the context in which the punctuation is used is vital to understanding what is meant.

Naturally, context doesn't always make things clear, so he said he's going to write on my face with a red pen while I'm asleep.

Update 2: Reader Qwertz provided this hilarious article on the Supreme Court's rulings on the apostrophe issue.

A Note on Punctuation

I really didn't think I needed to say this, but Mister Bookworm told me a week or so ago that some people think that quotation marks are for emphasis. I didn't believe him, but my boss's boss just sent out an email in which he seemingly wanted to emphasize the phrase "thank you" so he put it in quotation marks, like I did just now. So, his email was like this:

Anyone who asked me to sign a work order today, check that I didn't date it 2006....

"thank you"

Never mind that odd ellipsis there. It's the quotation marks that concern me. One quotation mark could be dismissed as a typo, but two just boggles my mind.

When you put quotation marks around something it means that either you're quoting someone or you don't really mean what you said within the quotation marks. This second application is why some people call them "scare quotes" because if you think someone is mistaken about something, you might put what they say in quotation marks. For example, let's say that I object to the someone referring to Willem de Kooning's paintings as art. I might say something like this: Willem de Kooning's "art" is offensive to the eye. There, you know that I mean that his paintings are not art and, in fact, I probably think they're exactly the opposite.

I'm PRETTY sure my boss's boss is not telling us to all go eff ourselves. See? I emphasize using capital letters. Or sometimes I use italics, but only rarely. But never do we use quotation marks.

Say it with me: quotation marks do not indicate emphasis.

Standard disclaimer when I'm ranting about these things: if there are any punctuation or spelling errors in this post it is because they are either simple typographical errors or I am an ignorant git. In either case, it would be impolite to point them out.

Riddle Me This

Why is it that on Top Chef when someone says "asshole" they bleep out "hole?"

Famous Person Sighting

I ate dinner last night in Chelsea at Bar Piti and Joel Grey sat down at the table next to us.

I was informed by the friend I was dining with that I am supposed to know who he is apart from being Jennifer Grey's dad. I remember now that I certainly DO know him apart from being Jennifer Grey's dad. He was the evil bossman on Alias for a while, Mr. Sloane!

Transportation Hell

One of the things I really looked forward to when I was planning my move to NYC was being rid of my car. I don't like driving in traffic and I don't like spending much time attending to my own transportation. Taxis are just too expensive to take on a regular basis and sometimes it's really frustrating trying to catch one. In an ideal world, I would be chauffeured around. Unfortunately, I have to deal with the subway and buses here.

For the most part, I am actually pretty impressed with the NYC subway system. It takes you all over the place. It runs 24/7/365. In 2005, they had a ridership of 1.45 billion passengers.

For the most part, I'm impressed and satisfied. Maybe... 85% of the time.

But I would guess that about 15% of the time, I have some sort of complaint about subway service. Non-air conditioned cars. Surly MTA employees. Unintelligible announcements. Poor communication between stations -- more on this in a moment. No means of knowing when the next train will arrive. Late trains. Overcrowded trains.

Why do the trains break when it rains?!?! Oh, because tunnels flood. TUNNELS FLOOD.

Why do the trains break when it snows?!?! I can't answer this one because by all accounts that I've heard, we had a mild winter last year and no really heavy snow storms.

Let's be clear: I'm on a rant tonight because I encountered one of the most frustrating incidents to date.

I entered the R/W station at Prince and Broadway this evening at a little after 9pm and prepared myself for the 30 minute ride back to Queens.

I waited.

And I waited.

And I waited.

An N train zoomed by -- strangely on the local track -- but didn't stop. Prince is a local station, which means that express lines like the N & Q don't usually stop there. The local trains even have their own tracks in many stations.

And I waited.

A Q train zoomed by, also on the local track, and didn't stop.

And I waited.

Since I finished my last book, I forgot to put a new book in my bag, so the waiting was pretty much pointless.

I think I waited 30 minutes before a train showed up. Bothersome, yes. Worthy of flying into a rage, no. No, not yet.

Well, the train was slow, but eventually made it to Lexington and 59th. For those unfamiliar, that's the last Manhattan stop before the N/R/W train goes to Queens.

Then, the train sat for about ten minutes and the conductor guy comes on the PA and says, "There was an incident ahead of us, so we're delayed."

We waited for some 15 minutes and the guy comes on and says that the train is not going to Queens. It's going to go back to Brooklyn -- the opposite direction I want to go.

So, I sigh and get off the train to wait.

We wait for about 30 minutes in the station without air conditioning or even fans and then another train finally backs down the uptown track and stops at our station. This new conductor says he's going to Brooklyn, too. He also tells us that there is no N/R/W service to Queens. If we need to get to Queens, we have to go back to Times Square (4 stops back downtown whence most all of us came.) and catch a different train to Queens as our final destinations dictate.

At this point, I am greatly vexed, but I get on the train and we head to the next downtown stop.

Before we even get to the next stop, though, the conductor comes on and says, "We've resumed normal service to Queens. If you'd like, you can change trains at 57th St. to get back on the N/R/W to Queens, or you can proceed to Times Square as previously described."

RAGE.

We get to 57th St. and there is a train heading back to Queens, but we're now all on the downtown platform, which means we have to cross to the other platform. By the time we do, that other train is gone.

RAGE.

We stand and wait.

RAGE.

We wait.

RAGE.

We wait for probably ten minutes before another train, which does finally take us to Queens as planned.

A trip that usually takes me 30 minutes took me over TWO HOURS.

1.45 Billion riders at an average of $2 per ride is $2.9 Billion in money from riders. They get subsidies from the city/state! What the HELL are they doing with all of this money?!?!?

I am willing to pay as much as $4 per ride for CONSISTENT, RELIABLE service. I want the MTA employees to be informed about incidents so that they can communicate effectively to customers. Oh, and I want customer-facing MTA employees to speak coherent, intelligible English. Second languages would be appreciated, particularly Spanish. I want fans in the subway stations to keep the urine saunas to a minimum. I'm sure there are other things, but I am going blind with rage over this again.

Ok. It's late. I need to relax, be calm, and go to sleep.

9/11 Conspiracies

I was able to DVR part of the History Channel's 9/11 Conspiracies show that aired twice this weekend.

They had several conspiracy lunatics on including those guys from Loose Change. They also had the guys from Popular Mechanics.

It was sort of interesting, but I've read the Popular Mechanics book and I already think the conspiracy theorists are idiotic and possibly insane. The show was mostly about how conspiracy theorists are, well, idiotic and possibly insane. So, you know.

Science Lesson

Total lunar eclipses are hard to see when the sun is coming up at the same time. They're also distinctly less dramatic when they don't leave the world awash in blood red moonlight.

Enough is Enough

I know. I blog about my butt and pooping entirely too much, but these are the things that occupy my mind during moments of silent reflection.

Last night, I went to Eckerd to get some soluble fiber to help raise my good cholesterols, but every bottle I picked up described soluble fiber as a laxative and digestive "bulk." I realize that fiber is bulk and it will help your BMs, but if there is one thing I do not need in my life right now it is a laxative.

Well, and also a sharp stick in the eye. I don't need that, either.

So, I opted for some fish oil capsules instead. Apparently, fish oil sucks as an option for reducing our "addiction" to foreign oil, but it can help raise your good cholesterol.

Fish oil capsules are HUGE. They're like the size of my fist. And you have to take two of them. I look like a snake that ate a couple of basketballs or something.

I better have HDL coming out of my... ears, when next year's check up comes around

That Reminds Me...

My mom is a fun lady. We're a lot alike, so it's really hard not to be amused by some of her antics.

Well, Diana's post about Cirque de Soleil reminds me: my mom mispronounces things.

I mispronounce things, too, because a lot of the things I know I only ever read or say in my head. But when I mispronounce things out loud, I think I say all the letters in something close to the right order. My mom doesn't really.

I own a house in Georgia near a town called Commerce. My mom always calls the town "Com-ress." This puzzles me because "Commerce" is a word that she knows in addition to being the town's name. Its pronunciation is standard and clear. "Com-ress" is just awkward.

But about Cirque de Soleil. My mom pronounces this "Sirk-olay." My understanding of the proper pronunciation is that it's "sirk du solay" with some little stops between the words. My mom puts no stops at all and drops lots of the sounds. sirkolay sirkolay sirkolay

I love it.

No matter how many times I repeat the words back to her with the right pronunciation, she insists on saying it wrong. I think she knows, but I can't be sure.

Total Eclipse of the Heart

Just kidding. It's a lunar eclipse and it's happening next Tuesday.

Hat tip to Eran Dror for bringing it to my attention.

I Saw Him!

I am almost certain you didn't know this, but He-Man lives in New York city and there is a group of people who have taken it upon themselves to record sightings of the barbarian hero.

Well, it's true: http://findheman.com/.

AND I SAW HIM! IN UNION SQUARE!

I don't know why I waited so long to blog this. I didn't get a photo because I don't have a camera phone yet. (I cursed my poor purchasing decision again, Buddhista, do not worry.")

I was sitting on the steps facing Whole Foods and chatting with my mom on my phone when I saw him. At first, I just thought it was some weirdo, but then I noted the tingly feeling that came over me as I gazed upon his royal mien. He was wearing brown, cargo pants and a red shirt without sleeves.

I don't know what happened to his sleeves, but I think a harpy ripped them off. He appeared to be brooding over this. I would brood, too, because it must be hard to constantly have sleeves custom made for such bulge-y arms.

I just reported it to the website, but I don't know if they will report it since I waited a couple of days to tell them about it.

Reviews

I always think to myself, "Flibbert, you should write reviews of the books and movies that you see. You like books. You like movies. You read. You watch. You judge and you talk smack. People love that. People will come to your blog from South America and Africa more if you write what you think about these things. You know how hard it is to get people from those continents here. There are time zone issues and the Yerpeens don't even get on the internet until late at night. They're insatiable porn-mongers and you're lucky they stop by at all. Add that to the fact that Hugo Chavez is cutting down the electrical wires all across South America right now and you have a recipe for disaster. A disaster in which you don't get to see people from all six inhabitable continents on your site in the same 100 visits. Remember how nice it was when that happened? Just think how cool it would be if it happened in the last 50 visits? Last 20? You could have a legitimate reason to crap your pants if it happened in the last ten and you know how much you love doing that. You should just get your act together and write something, anything about the books you read and the movies you see. And it's kind of a public service, too, so hippies might even start reading your blog. Ok. That's a stretch. Still. You should do it."

I ALWAYS say that, too. Ask anyone.

So, since I'm way behind on this, you're going to get all of my recent books and movies (that I can remember) here in one, quick post. In return, I expect you to call all the foreigners and get them to visit my website tomorrow at 3pm Greenwich Mean Time. Actually, they need to do it every day for the rest of the week at that time because sometimes I'm busy in the morning and I can't check.

Start dialing.

Books
Made to Stick
I read this book because it's kind of the business I'm in. You know, marketing. It's pretty good. Most of what it says is really commonsensical, but it's nice to see common sense things written down. It has tons of interesting examples, too.

It's not super well-written, but with this kind of book you don't really read it for that. You read it because you could start and finish it on a flight from New York to LA. It's good for that.

Would I recommend it? Yeah, maybe.

Secret Societies
Mister Bookworm gave this one to me. It's a fun read.

The book is about real and alleged secret societies like the Knights Templar, the Illuminati, the Priory of Sion, the Druids, and others. It's written in a rather conversational tone, but still manages to come off as being really well researched.

My favorite chapter is the first one on the Assassins, which history reveals to later become Al Qaeda. (Sort of, you have to read it.)

In general, the theme of the book is to teach some healthy skepticism about conspiracy theories and secret societies. My favorite part of the book that isn't a whole chapter is the full-on rant the author gets into over people who irresponsibly propagate fear of secret societies and conspiracies and he specifically cites the stink that rose up around The Da Vinci Code and the Priory of Sion.

Would I recommend this book? If you're into nonfiction and you're looking for something to read by the pool until the end of summer, definitely. Actually, if you like nonfiction and you're looking for a quick read, I'd recommend this one. Though not absolutely flawless nor is it without slow points it is still light, fun, and interesting. Check it out.

The Three Musketeers
Dear Alexandre Dumas: Don't ever talk to me again.

I totally loved the beginning of The Count of Monte Cristo and the rest of the book retained the sparkle until all but the very end. It was for those bright parts that I decided to read The Three Musketeers. I mean, you've gotten way more press over the musketeers, so it should be better, right?

Wrong.

The Three Musketeers is garbage. I don't know if Dumas was short on cash or what. Mister Bookworm tells me that serial novelists like Dumas were paid by the word for books like The Three Musketeers and judging from the idiocy that is in that book, I believe it.

First of all, neither in part nor in whole, I do not need conversations like this:

"Let's go to the restaurant," cried D'Artagnan in his usual youthful manner.

"I agree! The restaurant is a splendid idea," said portly Porthos in a tone that everyone expects from him when speaking of food and drink.

"Indeed, I think the heavenly Father would bless such a venture. Let us proceed," cooed Aramis serenely while fingering a volume that was either love poems or a prayer book. The other musketeers were not permitted to inspect it to be sure.

"It is decided. Let us go to the restaurant," Athos said in a tone that belied his mysterious, but high birth.

"To the restaurant!" cried D'Artagnan again.

Second of all, end the damn book already. The story is over about 18 and a half times before the pages actually run out.

I appreciate the light-hearted, implausible heroism of the book. I like the overblown courtesies, silly nationalism, and wild-eyed chivalry. Yes, it's all very colorful, but it's not at all cohesive. It's barely coherent.

Would I recommend it? No. Not even to children.

Flowers for Algernon
This is a disgusting book. Would I recommend it? No, but one particular line sums up this book for me: "Imperceptibly, I saw her relax."

I mused to Mister Bookworm that perhaps it means that she couldn't see him while she was relaxing, but since they were having a conversation at the time, Mister Bookworm was doubtful that Charlie gained super powers from his operation.

The writing is terrible. It's turgid with immature, nauseating emotionalism and occasionally it's a suppurating wound of vulgar details.

Thematically, I think it's an illustration of how all people are equal whether they're retarded or geniuses. It's vile.

Would I recommend it? Not even for the middle schoolers who usually read this filth.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
I'm rushing now because it's getting late.

On balance, I liked this book and I thought it was a good ending to the series. I told you that it was exciting and that all of my predictions were wrong. By now, you've probably heard how it ends, but I won't spoil it just in case.

Would I recommend it? Yes. I thought the whole series was a good, fun read. I appreciate the progression the books make as if they grew up with the kids in and the kids reading the series.

Movies
The Last Legion
Mister Bookworm and I were both excited to see this movie. It's about how Excaliber came to England after the fall of Rome.

Mister Bookworm studied classics in school, so he had a much deeper knowledge of the historical context in which the film was set. Even from our visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art's new Greek and Roman exhibit, I could tell that it was wildly inaccurate. His disgust has overflowed to a classics email list that he follows with strong advice to avoid the movie.

I can ignore inaccuracies, but I have to echo his recommendation. It's a horrible film. The plot runs far afield. The script is painful. The acting is troubling. Even the cinematography leaves a lot to be desired.

The best thing I can say about the movie is that the actress in the female lead, Aishwarya Rai, is absolutely gorgeous. I'm gay, though, and since the costume design was retarded, too, that doesn't get you very far.

Ratatouille
This is a cute movie. It's pretty typical Disney fare, so it's fun. My biggest complaint is the hordes of rats that make several appearances.

But go see it, it's fun times.

The Bourne Ultimatum
Bad. Ass. I almost don't want you to read this because I think you should be heading out to go see it right now. I think it's the best of the three movies.

The first Bourne movie was great. It was about Jason Bourne's discovery of his missing identity and his quest to escape from the one impressed upon him.

The second movie was just ok to me. It was more emotional than the first one because the theme was about Bourne recovering his humanity and establishing for himself his own identity and values.

This third film is the final chapter in Jason Bourne's arc to recover his identity and reclaim his life -- in whole -- for himself. And he kicks a whole lot of ass doing it.

Go see it.

The Simpsons Movie
I'm discovering that I'm not really a fan of comedies.

There are funny parts in this movie, but I don't think the Simpsons television show translated well to the big screen. I fell asleep for a little bit during the movie, too.

Would I recommend it? Probably not, but I don't know if you like silly movies or not.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
I don't know if this is my favorite of the Harry Potter movies, but it's high on the list. The story was lots more cohesive than the previous film and it Harry's teenage angst wasn't as annoying as it was in the corresponding book.

It's a lot of fun. Go see it!

BONUS MATERIAL
That's right! Bonus! Why? Because I love you and your foreign friends. Yes, it's way past my bed time, but I wanted to give you a quick review of some teevee shows:

Top Chef - Haven't been following the new season, but saw two episodes recently. FUN!

Flipping Out - That man is obnoxious and crazy. It makes for good television, but I'm afraid his crazy bee-sting lips are going to get on my nerved before I can make it through a whole season.

The Unit - Continues to impress. Max Martini is HOT.

The Closer - I'm not good at following this show, but I've enjoyed the episodes that I've seen.

Man v. Wild - I DVR this so that I can watch Bear Grylls do naked push ups and drink his own urine. I don't care if he's actually staying in a hotel at night.

Welcome to the Parker - Interesting. Could be better. Could end up good. I'm giving it more time.

I Hate my 30's - Quirky. Amusing. Possibly too quirky and too cynical for my tastes. I'll give it a few more episodes.

Rick & Steve: Happiest Gay Couple in the World - Wants to be the gay South Park, but it hasn't found its rhythm yet. Hint, boys: it's a dancer. How many gay jokes can you make and remain funny? Also, let's try for some current relevance.

I'm really excited for the Bionic Woman and Tim Gun's show that starts September 6. Also, the new season of House, Heroes, The Office, and 30 Rock.

That's it!

I often think I don't get enough done in my life as far as consuming information and media, but looking at this list, I'm a little amazed that I have any time at all between television, movies, books, magazines, blogs, museum visits, concerts, and everything else I do.

Ok. I need to go to bed and you need to start calling those foreigners.

Impact Testing

Consumers Report has a cool web page where you can see the impact tests for different vehicles online.

I like how the dummies have some kind of head case that holds red liquid so that when injured the dummy bleeds. Watch the Honda Odyssey 2005 to 2007 video to see the "blood" on the airbags. In spite of these minor injuries, the Odyssey gets the highest possible rating on both the front and side impact tests.

Update: The more I watch them, I don't think the blood actually implies an injury. I think it's just there to indicate that the dummy touched the surface.

Watch the old Kia Sedonas for a vehicle that gets only an "acceptable" rating.

Get the Name Right

The Da Vinci Code is an entertaining read. I'm surprised so many people took it seriously since it has so many wild historical inaccuracies. (Opus Dei is somehow associated with the Priori of Scion, an organization that never actually existed?)

But do you know what irritated me the most about the book? The fact that an art historian went around referring to Leonardo da Vinci as "da Vinci" as if that were his name.

His name is "Leonardo" and he is from the town of Vinci in Italy. First year art history kids learn this although it should be taught in high school. But no serious art historian studying the Renaissance master would go around calling him "da Vinci."

Please, everyone, stop doing this. It bugs me.

Update: Mister Bookworm, bless his sweet heart, wrote me this message:

Subject: To Quibble
Body: Da Vinci wasn't from Vinci. He was born in Anchiano, which is near
Vinci. Second, his full name wasn't just Leonardo. It was Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci. So calling him Da Vinci is both acceptable and accurate.

You can apply that same outrage to the name of the painter known as Caravaggio. He was from Caravaggio, but his name was Michelangelo Merisi. Thing is, there's a long established and accepted history of calling him Caravaggio, so switching to Merisi now would serve no other purpose than a desire to be mannerist and annoying.

A similar desire for scholarly purity often affects academics when they write the name of the poet who wrote The Aeneid. In English, his name is Virgil. In Latin, his name is Publius Vergilius Maro. Vergilius for short. Calling him Vergil is ... well, mannerist and annoying. His family and very close friends called him Publius. Everyone else called him Maro. I like to call him Ass Kisser.

[grin]

To which I responded:

Yes, dear, I know. I wikipedia'ed my facts before I posted.

The primary item upon which my argument stands is the fact that in Art History circles, though, it actually isn't accepted to refer to Leonardo as "da Vinci," particularly among older art historians. It is bizarre that the character in The Da Vinci Code would do that.

No, it isn't consistent that they would call Caravaggio "Caravaggio," but that is what they do. There may be some reasons behind the inconsistencies, but I don't know what they are and that isn't in Wikipedia which means finding out exceeds my patience and interest.

How did I learn this information about what Leonardo is called? When I studied Renaissance and Baroque art history in college. I also studied more than my fill on contemporary art history (everything post 1850-ish).

I can't remember everything I learned in art school, but this is one of those things. If you want to call Leonardo da Vinci something shorter, you can call him "Leonardo" but not "da Vinci" because that bothers me.

Changes to Vitalist

I think the accountant over at Vitalist had a "Come to Jesus" meeting with the bosses because they are driving hard to make some money now.

Check out the recent announcement about changes to Vitalist.

The first change we are introducing is the addition of a new rate plan and some changes to the free Vitalist plan. Vitalist plans will now be broken down into 3 plans:

* Free: Free accounts will include unlimited actions and up to 5 projects, contexts, and contacts each
* Basic ($5/month) Basic accounts will include sharing, file attachments with 250 MB of storage, and up to 25 projects, contexts, and contacts each.
* Premium ($10/month) Premium accounts include unlimited projects, context, and contacts, as well as sharing, SSL security, and file attachments with 1 GB of storage.

I can't hate on them for trying to make money -- hey! I think that's admirable -- but as a consumer I'm reluctant to pay for things like this. These new limitations may actually cost them my business, although since I'm not paying, they probably won't miss it.

We'll see!

Sweat, Baby! Sweat!

Mister Bookworm, who sweats quite a bit more than I do at much lower temperatures and therefore had no sympathy for my recent rant about sweating in NYC, sent me this NYT article on sweating.

Enjoy!

Productivity

So, I'm loving Vitalist and today JohnDavid referred me to another cool website: Jott.

Jott allows you to call a number and leave messages which get transcribed and emailed to whomever you please.

What's more, you can set up Vitalist as a contact for Jott and when you're out on the town and you think of something you need to do, you can just Jott it and it will go into your inbox in Vitalist.

YEHAW!

Sweat

I am so sick of sweating.

July and August are the worst months in NYC if you ask me. During this time, high temperatures usually average in mid to low 80's with relative humidity above 75%. This doesn't sound too bad, especially since I did grow up in a swamp in south Georgia without air conditioning.

In the years before I left for college, we spent hot, humid days sitting under the ceiling fan. As a kid, we would laze about in woods, usually up in the trees to take advantage of any errant breezes. Some days I would go to my cousins' house and we'd play video games in their house, which had air conditioning, a sprinkler on the roof, and tin foil in the windows. (I'm related to some colorful folk.)

When I left home for college, I have only ever worked and lived where there is central air conditioning. Yes, the heat was still obnoxious, but you could easily escape it.

In New York City, most apartments do NOT have central air conditioning. This is pure insanity to me, but we all have these stupid, inadequate, noisy window units. Almost every day I expect someone to be killed by one of these monsters as it plummets from a window to the sidewalk below. So far, I am a terrible psychic (as far as I know) but I hold out hope that on the day that I am right, fulfillment of my prophesy will be accompanied by the news that the woman who pushed me and swore at me on the subway this morning died a violent, painful death by blunt force trauma.

Last summer, I don't think the constant sweating bothered me as much as it is this year. Last year, the AC in the office broke and I had to contend with a stupid window unit at home. Last year, I even walked to work several days and I have several discolored t-shirts to prove it.

Maybe it's because I've spent more time in the subway this year.

The subway in NYC in the summer is like a sauna except hotter and steamier. The steam is produced by the evaporation of urine. Comfort yourself with the knowledge that not all the urine is human.

I'm just SO tired to sweating.

Our apartment is hot and humid; only my room ever approaches a temperature I prefer my apartment to be. When I go to the kitchen, I sweat. When I go to the bathroom, I sweat. I take cold showers to lower my body temperature so that I'm not sweating while also trying to wash. I can't fix my hair at home because I sweat.

I sweat on my way to the train station. I stand at the station sweating. I stand on the train pressed against the other passengers and sweat. I soak up some of their sweat and wince at the sensation of their sticky skin pulling away from my sticky skin. I sweat as I get off of the train. I sweat as I make my way to the surface.

On the short walk to work, I sweat. And for the past week, the air conditioner in the office has been broken -- again. So, I sit in my cube and sweat.

At lunch, I go to the elevator, which is not air conditioned either, and I stand amid other sweaty people and sweat. I sweat walking down the sidewalk to the place where I get my salad for lunch.

I fret over ordering anything with mayonnaise.

I walk back sweating and I sweat in the elevator again. I return to my cube to sweat some more.

I sweat for the rest of the day and repeat my commute in reverse only with more sweating because by that time I don't have the benefit of fresh morning breezes or my cold shower.

When I get home, I have to wait for my undersized AC to cool my room off. In the meantime, I sweat.

I am SO sick of sweating.

I am happy to say that yesterday afternoon, they did fix the office AC, so my cube is nice and cool now. No, NOW I'm sitting in my cube feeling the salt from my sweat dry on my skin. I'm also taking note of the fact that my underarm hairs are stuck together in a gooey, humid mesh of deodorant and, of course, sweat.

I don't know if the city makes the heat and humidity worse. Maybe the concrete, steel, and windows block the wind and trap the heat. I know that big cities do have higher average temperatures -- a fact that global warming alarmists like to both ignore and cite to their advantage.

I was about to call them "global warming enthusiasts" because that is more accurate to the wild-eyed glee environmentalists exhibit when talking about how unsuitable people are for habitation of planet Earth. I didn't, though, because I prefer to think of myself as a global warming enthusiast. If the price of civilization is planetary destruction, then sign me up for that twice. I digress.

So, I don't know if the city makes the heat and humidity worse, but I do know that it is pretty miserable.

Oddly, it was the winter in Georgia that really bothered me. Here, I don't seem to mind the cold, rain, or snow. Last summer was actually my first experience with New York as a city that experiences temperatures above 50 degrees. Every time I had been here before the weather was cold and snowy.

But by far the best time of year to be in NYC is autumn. Immediately behind that season comes spring in terms of pleasant weather. It's August. We're close, but we are still so, so, so many sweaty days away.

Why can't someone make my commute to work involve a slip-and-slide?

New Yorkers Want It All

I present to you FlexPetz.

It's like a doggy rental service. They call it "co-ownership" but that just means "doggy rental" to me.

Brilliant!

I Should Do Some Work

Stumble is killing my productivity.

Three Stumbles

Wildcard - This website is actually a time machine. You load it up. Move your mouse and suddenly an hour and a half has gone by and you don't know what happened.

Life Hack presents 50 tools which can help you in Writing. I don't have time to check them all out.

Chema Madoz has a buncha odd, interesting images.

Getting Things Gone

Check out this http://vitalist.com/!

It's an online implementation of David Allen's Getting Things Done system. I'm going to try it out. So far it looks really cool.

Potentially Not Safe For Work

Johndavid: There are a thousand things wrong with the link I am about to send you.
Flibbert: Ok.
Flibbert: Please send it immediately.
Johndavid: http://www.boytaur.net/

I don't really understand this. Apparently it's a perv site, but since this doesn't ever really happen, I don't understand how people can be into it.

Super weird.

Adjectives

I was talking with Mister Bookworm this evening and he corrected me on something I said earlier.

In the phrase "Second Annual Summer BBQ" (He's sitting here right now telling me my capitalization is all wrong. Editors. Cramping my art.) "second" doesn't modify BBQ, but actually modifies "annual."

All the same, he agrees that it's still the second time the BBQ ever occurred.

Similarly, the way I described "Summer" is also inaccurate. This word is a prepositional adjective, he tells me.

We can see this by the fact that if we rearrange the order of these words, the meaning changes. "Annual Second Summer BBQ" is our second BBQ of the summer in a series that perhaps occurs annually. Other arrangements create other confusing meanings.

Anywhoodles, there you have it. Correction noted.

Note to self: no more blogging with him looking over my shoulder. ;op

Annual Event or Annual Occurence?

Last night, I attended our office's annual summer BBQ. It was the third time that we've held the event and our GM welcomed everyone to our "second annual summer BBQ."

The crowd protested pointing out that this is the third year.

Our GM then proceeded to mock our ignorance saying that it wasn't "annual" until the second time, which makes the second the first and the third the "second annual summer BBQ."

Since we're being persnickety in this post, I'd like to point out that the adjective "summer" is superfluous since we don't BBQ in the winter or any other season for our office.

But his point is still one of contention.

Some parties agree with his logic much in the way that the new millennium didn't start until 2001. There is no year zero and therefore years ending in zero belong to the previous ten year increment and not the later.

I disagree with this logic.

The first time you have an event with the intent to hold it annually, you refer to it as your "inaugural summer BBQ" for example. The second time you have the event you call it your "second annual summer BBQ" because it is the second time you've had the event and now it's an annual thing since it happens yearly.

In the phrase "second annual summer BBQ" there is one noun, BBQ, and there are three adjectives, second, annual, and summer. "Second" indicates where the event is in the series. "Annual" indicates the period of recurrence. And "summer" describes the season of recurrence.

By our GM's logic, "annual" not only describes the frequency but also has something to say about the position in the series.

Our GM argued to me, "Well, by your logic, you'd never say 'first annual,' then." I agreed pointing out that you should say "inaugural event" instead to avoid being awkward and presumptuous. He said that people use this formulation all the time. I say that doesn't change its awkwardness or the presumption.

From Ask the Editor at the AP Stylebook:

Can I use "First Annual" for an event that is occuring one year after its inaugural debut?

The AP Stylebook entry on annual includes: Do not use the term "first annual." Instead, note that sponsors plan to hold an event annually.

This implies support for my position on this matter.

Mister Bookworm and Johndavid both agree with me.

The people at Pain in the English all agree with me about the second and third, but some of them disagree about whether or not it's acceptable to call the inaugural event the "first annual event."

Anyway, what do you think about this? Did we just have our third annual summer BBQ or our second annual summer BBQ?

Fat Face

I had a filling replaced this afternoon. It wasn't painful at all. I love my dentist. not only is he really good, he's also this hot, Latino man with wavy hair.

Sadly, I am injected full of some kind of something that has turned half of my face numb.

For kicks, I've had ranch dressing put on my salad. My the time I'm done, I will look like I'm doing an impression of Carol Ann after she gets rescued from the television.

I just hope I can keep from biting my tongue off.

Whups!

Too Good to be True?

Today is starting out beautifully.

First, I have a sore throat, so I went to bed early last night to get some extra sleep. (That's not the good part.) and my gym partner sent me a text message this morning saying she wasn't going, so I got even more sleep. So, I am very well rested today. (Unfortch, the throat still hurts.)

Second, I checked me email and Mister Bookworm sent me a really sweet note.

Third, I got to work and I had a note from a vendor. They finally succeeded in running tests on this project I've been working on with them. We've been waiting for these tests for an entire year. I'm not kidding. I've been talking to them about tests for over a year now. And they finally arrived this morning.

I'm ecstatic.

Confused

I'm not a fan of horror movies, so maybe that's why I spent the duration of this clip wondering why a zombie and a shark are fighting in the first place. How did a zombie get into the ocean anyway?

Ehn. I don't get it.

Clip found via Thrillist.

Kali Ma!

Johndavid has some kind of theme going.

Yeah, I don't know what's up with him today.

This Does Not Please Me

Johndavid showed me this today. The title of this post was my response to him.

Cool Clouds

Transformers!

This is pretty cool!

Back of the Class

It is almost 1 o'clock and UPS STILL hasn't delivered my copy of the new Harry Potter book.

If I wanted to wait this long, I wouldn't have pre-ordered. I would have stood in line last night with a thousand snotty-nosed kids and bought it after midnight.

ARG!!!

Eau Fraiche

Ask Yahoo!: What's the difference between eau de toilette and eau de parfum?

Perfume, also called extract or extrait perfume, can include 15-40% perfume concentrates. This is the purest form of scented product and is the most expensive as a result.

Eau de parfum contains about 7-15% perfume concentrates. This is the most popular and common form of perfume. It provides a long-lasting fragrance and generally doesn't cost as much as extract perfume.

Eau de toilette has around 1-6% perfume concentrates. This makes for a light scent that doesn't linger as long as the more intense versions. It was originally intended to be a refreshing body splash to help people wake up in the morning.

Eau de cologne is sometimes used interchangeably with the term eau de toilette. However, the concoction began as the name of a light, fresh fragrance mixed with citrus oils and was made popular by Napoleon. Some perfumers today have a version of this called eau fraiche.

So, there you go.

Stink Pretty

My new cologne was recommended to me by Mister Bookworm. It's d'Orange Verte by Hermes. I really like it.

It's a rich, warm fragrance with very distinct citrus notes (I accidentally sprayed myself in the face this morning and noticed that with grapefruit there is also lemon in it) and something like vanilla in the back beat. I don't have a very sophisticated or well-trained nose, so you'll have to check it out for yourself to see what I mean.

Well, I went down to Chinatown to the street perfumerie's there because things are cheaper and you can haggle.

The first place we stopped didn't have it. Instead of presenting me with what I asked for (Apparently, my French accent isn't well understood by the vendors in Chinatown. Who'da thunk?) I was bombarded with a loud, heavily punctuated catalog of all the brands of men's fragrances they do offer.

ARMANI.
HUGO.
CLINQUE.
DRAKAR.

After saying "no" about ten times, I abandoned courtesy and simply walked away.

We spotted a place on the corner of Canal and Broadway that was chock full of fragrances and as luck would have it, they had what I wanted.

For $50.

The problem with Chinatown is that you don't really know what things cost and because negotiating is expected, the mark up on the initial first offer is very high.

Fortunately, I had visited Amazon earlier yesterday. They have the 6.5oz Eau de Cologne bottle for just $47.99 after the discount.

The vendor dropped his price to $47 and I scoffed. There is no way I would pay $47 in Chinatown for something I could get for a dollar more on Amazon and I told him so.

He told me I was lying. I told him he was losing a sale.

He dropped his price to $45 and I still said no. He told me to name a price and I threw $30 out there and he told me I was wasting his time.

Not to be outdone, Mister Bookworm and I walked right up Broadway to Sephora to check the price.

I found the 6.5oz bottle there for $105 and the 3.3oz bottle for $80. I thought I was mistaken, but as you can see from the link above I wasn't.

So, on our way to dinner, there was another perfume stand open; he was just getting ready to close. We stopped by and he had it! He offered me $45 and thinking that was a bargain, I agreed. Unfortunately, I only had $40, but the nice vendor took the $40 and told me to have a good night.

I was so tickled.

Unfortunately, I didn't remember that the $47 bottle on Amazon was the 6.5oz bottle. And I didn't notice that Amazon has the 3.3 oz unboxed Eau de Toilette for just $30.

I don't know the difference between Eau de Toilette and Eau de Cologne, but now I will have to go find out.

Still, I love the fragrance even if it wasn't a HUGE bargain.

Pet Peeves: Sneezes

I hate these people who yell when they sneeze. Never in my life have I ever found it necessary or beyond my control to engage my vocal chords while sneezing.

When I sneeze, air is forced from my mouth and nose rather suddenly, but my voice isn't "turned on." It sounds very much like "achoo" but there isn't any vocalization.

But some people, like this jackass who sits near me here in the office, yell when they sneeze. It's obnoxious.

And along the lines of sneezing, lots of people say "bless you" when someone sneezes. I think this tradition has something to do with warding off demons, but in any case it's somewhat ridiculous.

Some people in my office demand to be blessed when they sneeze.

I remember one day soon after I started at this job, someone near me sneezed and I didn't respond to their outburst. They said, "Hey, Flibbert. When I sneeze I like when people say 'bless you.' " I gave them an imperious look, raised one eyebrow and responded, "Duly noted."

'Duly noted' is a nice way of telling someone to go eff themselves.

I think that instead of everyone rushing to save the mortal soul of someone who sneezes, the sneezer should excuse himself. So, when I sneeze, I say, "excuse me," because I just sprayed everything in the immediate vicinity with saliva, dust, germs, and all the biological detritus associated with a sneeze. Really, excusing one's self is the least that one could do.

Shopping Spree

I need a new pair of jeans. I also need some shoes and some cologne.

Sample sale to the rescue!

Thrillist - July 18th

But do I want to go all the way down to Greenwich?

The cologne I'm going to check out is d'Orange Verte by Hermes. It was recommended to me because I said that I like cologne with citrus notes. (I also like the smell of tomato plants and fresh rosemary, but that's really not related.)

So, I think I might make a trip down to Chinatown after work this evening to see what's going on.

Desktop Woes

So, I did the F8 thing that Inspector suggested. My computer is defragmenting in safe-mode right now.

Attempting to start it up with the last good configuration didn't seem to work.

I'm kind of worried about what could be wrong with it. I really don't think it's a virus since I rarely do any web surfing on that machine. (I think I'm a savvy enough user to avoid most of the common means of infection, too, but shizzle does happen fo' rizzle.)

The worst part is that I don't think I have any spyware/adware cleaner-upper programs on my machine. (Yeah. As usual, I'm the perfect disaster victim.)

In other news, I think my laptop is running hot. I've been shutting it down while I'm not using it so as to avoid any deleterious effects of the summer heat, but it's a Dell and I heard a rumor that this particular model has had some trouble with the cooling fans. (The rumor also said that Dell is not particularly helpful in resolving the issue.)

If my lappy dies and my desktop dies, I will be in a world of pain and suffering. Of course, it would give me an excuse to begin introducing the wonderful world of Apple into my life, in preparation for the arrival of an iPhone in the winter. Silver lining!

Anyway, we'll see how my desktop fixy-process goes. I'll let you know if I ever manage to get it started up again.

Puzzle Answer

If you're interested in the answer to the "puzzle" I made up the other day, look in the extended entry area of this post.

The first one came from this:

My best friend was working on his website and had grid of numbers laid out to denote where it would put samples of his work for his portfolio and staring at the grid made me come up with that series.

The last number in the series is 5.

This reminded me of the American Flag.

I can't look at the field of stars on the American flag without my eyes tracing the two bouncey paths over the stars. By numbering the stars, I got the second series I presented to you:

So, the next four numbers in the series I gave you are: 33, 27, 21, 15.

That one was a little harder because the rows alternate in length, which would mess up the pattern of adding and subtracting that you'd saw in the first one. Also, I didn't give you very many "bounces" to reveal a clear pattern, either.

Anyway, there you go.

I was just thinking about this as a possible method for encrypting messages. I wonder if people have done this before. I'm sure they have. Does anyone have a reference?

A Puzzle

What's the next number in this series:

1, 7, 13, 19, 15, 9, 3, 7, 11, 17, 13, 9, __

I have no idea how a person would go about figuring this out, but I'm throwing it out there to see if someone can.

Remind me and I'll tell you the answer later.

Update: My best friend figured it out and there is a pattern. (If you take a few minutes to look at it, you'll see it.)

Here's another one, but try to do the next 4 numbers:

1, 7, 13, 19, 25, 31, 37, 43, 49, 44, 39, __, __, __, __

Bonus points if you can tell me where I got that second pattern.

Disappointed

I recently discovered that there is a gym near my office that has a pool and I have been really excited about the prospect of swimming laps in the morning rather than running all the time.

So, I ordered a couple of speedo swimsuits. I followed the size guide on the website, but apparently my legs are bigger than swimmers legs usually are with respect to their waists because the suits fit at the waist fairly well, but the legs were uncomfortably tight.

I'm not sure how much larger I should get, though. I mean, no one sizes things based on the circumference of the leg holes and the fit at the waist isn't bad at all.

I guess I'll just try the next size up. *sigh* Such a hassle.

If you're interested, here are the suits I ordered: Nylon Water Polo and Mesh Poly Square Leg.

iFair. iBalanced.

I got to play with another iPhone on Saturday and it still looks sooooo cool.

But the negative reviews are streaming in.

Here's a long bulleted list of things this one guy doesn't like about the iPhone. Some of them are valid complaints in my book, others are just items of personal preference to him, I think.

Here's a fun bit:

The iPhone’s battery is apparently soldered on inside the device and cannot be swapped out by the owner like most other cell phones.

[...]

Users would have to submit their iPhone to Apple for battery service. The service will cost users $79, plus $6.95 for shipping, and will take three business days.

[...]

...because some users will not want to live without their cell phones, Apple is also offering a loaner iPhone for $29 while the gadget is under repair.

Like many PC users, I am greatly irritated by Mac users who fail to recognize the strengths of PC's and weaknesses of Apples. But I would levy the same criticism against many PC users who refuse to recognize the power of Macs.

Anywhoodles, there you have it.

Lonesome

Oh! And almost all of the Objectivists have carted themselves off to Colorado for OCON.

'Cept me, of course.

*le sigh*

Subway Weirdos

Last night I was heading home from the gym on the R Train, just minding my business and reading my book when a lady sat down in the seat next to me.

This wasn't a huge surprise because even though it wasn't rush hour or anything, the train was surprisingly full.

After riding for a few minutes, she tapped me on the should and said, "Excuse me," in a very timid voice and I saw that she was a young Asian lady with bad skin and bad teeth.

Being the friendly sort of fellow that I am, I replied. "Yes?"

"If you had a billion dollars, what would you do with it?"

"A billion dollars?"

"Yes."

"Well, I suppose I'd go on vacation."

"Oh! Is that all? Like would you continue to work or what?"

"Yes, I'd probably work, but not likely at the job I have. I'd travel. I'd maybe go to school."

"Oh. Ok. Thank you."

"You're welcome," I said and I went back to reading my book.

A few more minutes passed and she wanted me to look at some pages that she had torn out of a magazine.

I paid perfunctory attention to the pages before smiling and returning to my reading.

I should have told her that people have peed in their pants to get my attention before. Magazines just won't cut it anymore.

I know she was just trying to make a new friend, but when I got off the train I still checked to make sure I hadn't accidentally joined another cult.

Have I Ever Mentioned...

That I want to be friends with Drew Barrymore?

She seems like she'd be fun to hang with.

ARG!

I think my desktop computer is dying or dead. I can't seem to get it to start up.

I'm running Windows XP and it starts going through the startup process, but when it gets to the point where it would ordinarily load my desktop and everything, it gets stuck and it just keeps blinking at about 5 second intervals and it never fully displays the desktop image or icons.

I don't use my desktop very much, but it is where I keep all my original files and my "heavy" programs like Adobe Photoshop. It's what I use when I really need to sit down and work.

Ug.

It has all of my photos and music and documents.

Any thoughts on this, folks?

Pride of the Gays Weekend

I'm such a bad gay. I didn't attend any Gay Pride Festival activities.

On Saturday night I attended this charity mixer and then popped over to a party hosted by a friend of a friend. I was up way past my bed time, fell asleep on the subway and missed my stop. I wound up not getting to bed until 4am.

I then woke up at 7 am, got dressed, and headed into the city to get tickets to The Color Purple for me and a friend of mine from business school.

See, my roommate told me that I could get rush tickets if I went to the theater box office first thing in the morning. He said that he thought it would open at 8am and the website I checked didn't give any clear indication. This information proved to be false as the theater box office for The Color Purple doesn't open until 12.

I sat on the sidewalk for four hours.

On the bright side, I met some sweet people. The Starbucks people brought us free samples of their new summer flavor, the Orange Creme Frappachino. Delish. It tastes like one of those orange cream ice cream bars.

And since I was there so early, I got good tickets. My friend and I sat in the second row of the orchestra, right in front of the stage. We were so close that a lady sitting a few seats down from me reached out and shook Fantasia's hand when they came out to take a bow.

The performances were good. The stage design was incredible. (When it comes to theater, I'm generally most interested in the set, lighting and costume design and little else.) I enjoyed the show and it was worth the $26.25 I paid for my ticket, but musical theater still isn't something I foresee incorporating into my life on a regular basis.

But given that the regular price of the seats we got were about $120, I will be going to rush tickets when I can.

So, that's about it. Enough to keep me busy, but nothing to do with the pride of the gays. Maybe next year.

More about Cellphones

I was just checking on my Verizon contract to see when I would be eligible to receive a discount on a new phone. You see, I am coveting one of my coworkers' Blackberry 8830.

But I just looked at the price tag: $520.

*sigh*

I hadn't imagined paying that much for my next phone. This makes the iPhone a much more likely option to me. Not only does the iPhone support all the fancy functionality, but it really could take the place of my iPod, whose name is Poppet. I know Poppet will be sad not to come with me everywhere I go, but I will be happy to have my music with me just by virtue of having my phone with me.

I will also be happy to be able to get to the internet and all that other stuff.

I dunno. I love Verizon's coverage here in the city and most of my family is on Verizon as well.

Tough call.

My New Crush

Bear Grylls.

Dude is a badass and he's not hard on the eyes at all.

Swiffer Wet Jet: Nasty

I was just watching a Swiffer Wet Jet commercial and it said that it dissolves dirt.

I take that to mean that the dirt is still there, it's just spread out over everything.

That's gross.

iPhone iLike iScared

So, have you seen the Apple iPhone? It's beeeeeeaaautiful. It also comes out June 29th.

It has a big, color touch screen. It has the global intarwebs in there. It has music. It's SO pretty. It has the blueteeths and

My roommate, The Actor, and I were talking about it and he thinks it's going to be a flop. Not that people won't spend $499 for the 2GB version or $599 for the 4GB version, but he thinks there will be lots of complaints.

The biggest problem he sees is that iPods break a lot when people drop them and people drop their cell phones all the time. So, people are likely to drop their iPhone a lot and they'll break.

He also questions the talk time. He told me last night that it has less than 2 hours of talk time, but according to Apple and other sites, it has 5 hours, which is apparently better than other smart phones.

The Actor also thinks that 4GB is WAY too small and that you'd have to carry both an iPod and an iPhone in order to be completely satisfied. I have to agree on this one because I hate carrying gadgets around. I just want the internet in my brain.

So, the iPhone isn't for me.
- I hate carrying lots of gadgets.
- I put my gadgets through a LOT of wear and tear.
- I drop them.
- I am not willing to spend $500 on a phone/intarweb machine/empty3 player.
- Verizon doesn't have the iPhone

I hope the iPhone is really cool and doesn't break or mess up because it's 2007 and it's totally time for pretty, slick, fancy machines like this. The iPhone world is the world I want to live in.

Update: Tom Rexton informs me that The Actor got the memory wrong on the iPhone as well. It's 4GB and 8GB, which is the same as the iPod nano. That makes a huge difference to me.

I still won't buy one because it's expensive and I do think I would break it and because Verizon won't have it.

My Reading List

I have a pile of books on the dresser next to my bed. In case you're curious, here's the list in no particular order:

- Make it Stick
- Ayn Rand's Normative Ethics
- All Marketers are Liars
- Theodore Rex
- Flowers for Algernon
- Snow
- Ayn Rand and Song of Russia
- The Compleat Strategyst
- Rumors
- The Thornbirds
- The Crimson Petal and the White
- Eats, Shoots, & Leaves
- Games and Decisions
- Business at the Speed of Thought
- Mr. Darcy's Diary
- The Three Musketeers
- The Wings of the Dove
- The Secret History of the Pink Carnation
- Crime and Punishment
- Sense and Sensibility
- Mansfield Park
- The Good German
- The God Delusion
- The Masque of the Black Tulip
- Assassination Vacation

Rainbows

Well, it's June, so of course I'm thinking about my brothers and sisters of the sugary loafers.

Amazingly, it's 2007 and there are still people out there who are cursing gay people. No, really. Actual curses. I found out from Joe.My.God.

To all those involved, sinners in spirit, and whoever helps and protects them, may they feel a curse on their souls, may it plague them and may evil pursue them; they will not be requitted of their transgressions from heavenly judgment

Ya heard?

I can't think of anything more removed from my life.

One of the really convenient things for me is that there are tons and tons of gay men in New York. Basically, if you do not like gay people, you should not come to Manhattan. Seriously, just stay away.

And yet there are people who are that way.

At the end of the month, the Gay Pride parade will sashay down fifth avenue. I used to frown at all the "freaks" thinking that they give gay people a bad name. But over the years I've come to think that they're good for changing people's attitudes overall because no one is like that on a daily basis. When bigot meet gay people who aren't so flamboyant, they think, "Oh, gay people aren't that bad after all."

But today I'm thinking something slightly different.

You know, if you're a wild and crazy person who likes to put on nutty costumes and parade down the street, go for it. There's a certain joie d'vivre that I really appreciate about people who take it up to that level. What they're doing isn't hurting anyone. Instead, they're presenting a highly stylized vision of human beings and I appreciate that.

So, anyway. Happy Gay Month, y'all! Go hug a gay person.

P.S. For those who don't know, apparently "rainbows" is another name for barbiturates.

Speed

I am screaming inside my brain this morning.

My natural speed of movement and thought right now seems to be set at about three times that of everyone around me. People are walking, talking, doing everything WAY too slowly. They're making too much noise and accomplishing too little with the effort.

And my computer is even too slow. It's slow all the time, though.

To make matters worse, even though my brain is moving fast, my body doesn't seem to be moving as quickly as I'd like it to go. Like the speed at which I'm able to type. I can't type nearly as fast as I'm thinking at the moment and it's painful.

This is very definition of frustration.

I had a dream that I had white hair last night. It was really weird. I wound up getting it cut off because it looked crazy.

Busy Week/End

This week was kind of bonkers for me.

I can't even remember everything that I did.

I know I finished up a freelance project I was working on. I saw a lot of my friends. I went to the gym a lot. I saw a movie and did a bunch of stuff to fix up our kitchen.

It was all pretty buck wild.

Five Minutes to Kill Yourself

This is almost exactly how I feel when I get meeting requests, although I usually want to kill other people and not myself.

Five Minute to Kill Yourself

Don't Do Drugs! Part 2

Ok. Sorry for the interruption. It was late and I had to get some sleep.

So, there was this lady at the party last night telling us a story from her first few months in New York.

She was 18 and it was the first time that she had been out on her own and away from home. She said that she went wild, partying all the time and using drugs. One day she was having a party at her apartment and everyone started using acid.

No one at the party had ever tried acid, so she explained to us that acid, among its many effects, is that it creates a sense of shared psychotropic euphoria. As a result, she felt an intense communal bond and felt she could not possibly leave the company of her fellow party people.

Well, apparently, one of the other effects of acid is sudden diarrhea. I don't know if that is normal for everyone, but she said that is the case with her.

So, under the effects of acid, this woman was suddenly afflicted with violent diarrhea. She went to the bathroom, but it was occupied. When it reached the point where she couldn't hold it any longer, she had to find an alternative, but due to her perceived dependency on the other people at the party, she couldn't leave.

Then she sees a large purple bowl and takes it and steps into a closet where she evacuates her bowels into this bowl. Feeling much better, she left the closet to find some means of disposing of this big, purple bowl and she found a plastic, grocery store bag and returned to the closet.

No one at the party noticed her activity.

So, she put the bowl in the bag and brought the bag out of the closet and passed back through the party and threw the big, purple bowl of diarrhea out the window onto Amsterdam Avenue.

And that is why you should not do drugs.

Your Friendly, Neighborhood Pervert

First of all, let me say that today is sure to be a glorious day -- excepting, of course, the true topic of this post. It's going to be 90 degrees today in NYC. I don't have a single meeting lined up on my calendar and Theory is having a sample sale.

So, last weekend, I had a great time in Delaware. I went to the beach, I was only minimally burned in a couple of places that I missed with the sunscreen. I relaxed. I spent time with friends. I did some shopping.

In fact, I bought a pair of really cool linen pants. They're a sort of off-white with a grey pin stripe in them. Super cool. I also got this nice brown shirt. I'm wearing both of these today, actually. Since it'll be 90 degrees, it seemed appropriate.

Well, this morning, when I was packing up my clothes to go to the gym, I noted to myself that I need to wear white underwear with my linen pants since dark undies will show through light-colored linen pants.

I pulled out a pair of my favorite underwear, white Jockey sport boxer briefs. I love them. They're so comfy and they look sexy, too.

Anywhoodles, I picked out my underwear and put them on the bed beside me. I picked out my socks and other sundries and put my stuff into my backpack and headed out the door.

You know how you sometimes just have a feeling that you've forgotten something, but I can't remember what it is?

Well, when I got to the gym this morning, I realized that although I had selected my underwear and put it on my bed, I did not put it into my backpack.

Perhaps you don't understand what this means: I am wearing LINEN pants and no underwear right now.

All my goodies are on display. Seriously. There is no denying the visible penis lines (VPL The same acronym is used to refer to panty lines on women.), so it looks like I will be alternative glued to my desk or rushing around the office to stand behind something.

Also, my shoes squeak on our office floor. So obnoxious.

*YAWN*

After working hard to break my caffeine addiction a couple of weeks ago, I wound up drinking a LOT of green tea this weekend, not knowing it has caffeine in it.

My friend acted like I was an idiot for not knowing that, but do understand that I was not allowed to drink black or green tea as a child, so my exposure to it is very limited. My only exposure until very recently was actually to herbal teas like chamomile and peppermint, which do not have caffeine.

So, anyway, a day later now, I am crashing. *YAWN*

Grrrrr...

I am in SUCH a foul mood right now.

First, we had this party after work at the office for a coworker who was moving on to a better opportunity. So, there I was enjoying myself when I decided to step back to my desk to check my email and start packing to leave. There were two emails in my inbox mentioning an error on a page. The page isn't live yet, so it's ok. It can wait until tomorrow.

But no sooner have I skimmed these emails, when one of the people who sent one of the emails comes over and says, "Hey! There's a problem with this page."

REALLY? It's a good thing you told me because I was just stricken with acute illiteracy. I'm writing this blog post, in fact, via a machine not very unlike the one Stephen Hawking uses.

So, not only did he send me an email about it, but he came over to tell me about it. That would piss me off even during business hours, but this was AFTER HOURS when everyone (but me) is standing around drinking beer and chit-chatting. Further, it wasn't even an emergency and he knows DAMN well that there's nothing I could do about it with all my developers either tipsy or at home.

Then, I was going to go to a party this evening to which I was invited by someone I don't know well. I asked a friend of mine to go with me explaining the situation and the fact that I didn't want to go alone. She demurred asking to be allowed to consider it a little longer. I pressed saying that if she didn't feel like it, then I would need to ask someone else. She waited until 10am this morning to tell me that she wouldn't attend the party.

I asked two other friends but they were busy and couldn't make it.

It didn't matter, though, because by the time I hoofed it uptown to this party, I quickly learned that the party was not happening. I called my acquaintance and he apologized for not notifying me.

Then, I walked behind every tourist, yokel, mouth-breather, ass-dragger, slow-poke, and dipshit in Manhattan on my way to the subway. Perfectly infuriated, I caused several people to apologize and scurry away with a glance from my death ray vision. Then, I climbed into the most crowded N train I'd ever been on at that time of evening where my personal space was invaded repeatedly and unnecessarily by this guy next to me who -- for reasons that aren't clear to anyone -- kept leaning backwards while reading his book. I was also repeatedly sodomized by this short, Latino woman's shopping bag which declined my invitation to coffee.

Then, I walked behind the same asshats from before to my apartment where I tripped going up the stairs.

But, you know what makes it ok?

Fleet Week is in full effect.

Holy Lack of Planning Batman!

I have this friend from college who came to stay with me for a rather long weekend. Originally, he was supposed to arrive Friday afternoon and leave today, Monday afternoon. Instead, he called me on Wednesday and asked if he could come early because he would be at my apartment in a couple of hours and would be otherwise homeless.

Long story on how that came about, which is pretty typical of the sorts of things this guy gets himself into, but I'm an accommodating guy and I hadn't seen him in a couple of years, so I was looking forward to the visit, so I readily assured him that it would be fine if he showed up early.

His entire story from how he got here to how he spent his time here is convoluted, sordid, and quite humorous, but I really kind of have to tell you in person for the full effect. So, let's skip to the end of his visit, which is now.

As I type this, I am waiting for him to finish packing. He was supposed to be finished packing two hours ago. Our "drop dead" time for departure in hopes of getting him to his plan in time was an hour ago.

Typical.

But I'm not worried about it because he's a big boy. I'll get him as far as the train to New Jersey -- he's flying out of Newark -- and send him on his way. It isn't important to ME that he makes his plane.

But I am amazed at his complete nonchalance about this sort of thing. And he's been this way for as long as I've known him.

The Cool Thing About Cable

Even though the cable was off, my shows still got recorded.

Cool, right?

Eek!

This isn't the sort of thing I usually post about, but it's funny, so I thought I'd mention it.

This weekend, our cable got canceled because my roommate didn't pay the bill. I don't know how that sort of thing happens, you know, what with the bill coming in the mail and it being due the same time every month and all. But, whatever.

So, this morning he was at work and I sent him a text message. "Don't forget the cable."

He messaged me back saying, "I went by this morning and paid it. Is it still not on?"

It wasn't.

Anyway, he came in just a little bit ago and asked if it was on. My back was to my television set and I said, "I dunno. I haven't checked in a while." So, I picked up my remote and turned on the power to my teevee without looking.

I glanced at the cable box and the little message warning us that we hadn't paid was off. So, I was like, "Oh! It looks like it's on now."

And my roommate suddenly left my room.

I noted that there was no sound happening. I turned around and noticed that...

Um... Well...

I had been watching an adult movie and paused it when I was... umm... well, tired of watching the movie. Yes. And there on the screen frozen was...

Well, you don't need to know what exactly was on the screen. I will say this, though: that one guy has some really well-designed tattoos.

I couldn't help but burst out laughing. My roommate didn't acknowledge it, though. I'm still laughing about it.

Panic! On the Sidewalk

Monday morning's weather was beautiful as I set out for work. I put a happy song on my iPod and set out from my building on my five block stroll to the subway station.

I'm a pretty fast walker, so it wasn't long before I started to overtake modest, little woman walking in the same direction. I was abreast of her as we reached an intersection, she scampered across the street ahead of me. I took no real notice of this apart to think to myself, "There aren't any cars coming. There's no need to worry." And I proceeded on my way.

She was perhaps 5' 6", wearing a matronly outfit of dark blue slacks, comfortable-looking black shoes, a blue cardigan, and a white blouse. She struck me as the sort of woman who might be an elementary school teacher but her career could not have been long judging from the lack of significant gray in her hair. I gauged her age to be in her mid- to late-30's.

It wasn't long before I was less than a half dozen strides from passing her again. This time we were midway along the block when she scampered ahead of me again. I thought this was strange.

Not even a quarter of a minute later, I was noticing my shadow that the sun was casting on the sidewalk ahead of me. I watched my shadow run along the shop fronts past this little woman as I caught up to her again. Again, she took off in her stiff-legged trot to get ahead of me.

I caught up with her a fourth time and she did it again, this time dodging around other pedestrians.

I am 6' 2" tall and over 180 lbs. I'm fair of hair and skin. My build reads as slim to athletic. While I'm not a small person, I also don't present a very imposing figure. Any gravitas I bring due to my bearing usually comes from the fact that I have a rather firm set to my jaw and a somewhat grim, unblinking look. Nevertheless, this woman was running from me.

Naturally, I thought this was funny. I could barely contain my laughter.

Here we are: two pedestrians, walking down the sidewalk in the morning sun with other pedestrians, and this woman is dead-set on either getting away from me or merely getting ahead of me.

I couldn't be sure of her objective, but that didn't stop me from speeding up my pace so that I could catch up with her even more quickly.

She never let me get ahead, though. She started running for greater and greater distances to allow her more time to walk.

We repeated the process more than a half dozen times before we reached the subway stairs. She mounted first and I was a three or four strides behind her. She didn't look at me as she climbed the stairs and I walked beside them to reach the entrance. She was only seven or eight steps ahead of me on the stairs when I began taking them two at a time.

In no time I was close enough to where I had to slow to her pace to keep from hitting her when I brought my knee up to take the next step. I couldn't pass her due to traffic coming down the stairs, so I contented myself with simply looming over her from behind.

She went to one side of the platform and I proceeded to the other. My train was waiting when I got to the top, so I didn't even get to see her from across the tracks.

I still don't know what she was doing, but I thought it was a very fun game to chase this mousy little school marm to the subway station on Monday. And the weather couldn't have been more perfect for the diversion either.

A Few More of My Pet Peeves

- When someone takes their food out of the microwave early and fails to clear out the remaining time.

- When I'm on a call with someone and I say, "I'm going to send out meeting notes to the group" and then that someone calls me back to ask, "Would you copy me on that email with the notes?"

- When I explain something to someone and they claim to understand it, but then find themselves unable to repeat my explanation to anyone else. That is the hallmark of not understanding.

- When people call me on the telephone from their cube five feet away after repeated explanations that my phone is broken and answering it requires donning my headset only to find out that they want me to get up and come to their desk.

- When people leave me voice mails and then send me emails that say the same exact thing. Just say, "Hey, since you're not there, so I'm going to send you an email." Or, better still, don't leave a message at all and just send the email.

- When people call meetings for me to explain what is written in a document I spent a week composing and editing for them.

- When people call meetings for me to explain what I've explained to them several times already in informal meetings and emails.

- When people fail to identify the subject of their discussion and send me emails that simply say, "What do you think?" I always think, "About what? Your font is pretty and your punctuation seems more or less well-situated."

- When people randomly call me or walk up to my desk and expect me to drop what I'm doing to talk to them about their project.

- When people randomly call me or walk up to my desk and expect me to drop what I'm doing to work on their projects instead of the one I was working on when they called or arrived.

- When people come up to my desk (or call) to ask me if I've read the email they just sent.

- When people come up to my desk (or call) to ask me if I've read any email they sent.

- When people come up to my desk or call. Really. Let's just be honest. I kind of don't like when people do that at all.

- When people ask me to do their work for them.

- When people ask me to explain their work to them so they can do it. (Where is their manager?)

- When it takes three days to explain to someone what I want in spite of having sent them examples, had meetings, and done everything except complete the task themselves.

Update:
- When someone writes me an email asking me to email someone else the contents of their email.

Three and counting!

If any of you have seen me without my shirt on (and if you've been reading this blog, you have) you'll note that I don't have any chest hair.

That's not quite true. For the longest time, I have had TWO chest hairs.

One of them grows about three inches south of my collar bone, slightly to the left of the cleft between my [bulging] pectoral muscles.

The second grows about one inch below my [rock hard] left pectoral muscle.

Totally random.

Well, I have found a THIRD chest hair. It was about two inches south of my collar bone and off to the right.

Soon, Hugh Jackman will be driven insane with jealousy over my manly, chest pelt that he can't help but run his hands all over me... and do other stuff, too, including but not limited to smooching.

Roommate Problem

When I got into the shower this morning, I noticed that water wasn't draining from the tub. When I looked at the drain, I discovered that the drain was full of hair.

PUBIC HAIR.

Apparently, my roommate decided to shave his pubic hair at some point last night and did not clean up after himself and so, unless I wanted to stand in water blocked by said hair, I had to clean it up this morning.

Not cool.

Suicide Attempt

So, this evening, I was sitting here watching television and chatting and reading/writing on the internet. And my ex-boyfriend, the Good Doctor, IMed me to tell me that he's being sued.

You see, he's a doctor, and there is some malpractice suit looming over him. Based on what he's told me, he doesn't need to worry much about it, but he's a worrier. He said he had lots of problems he was worried about.

So, we were discussing it and he was basically just bemoaning his bad fortune. I applied several different approaches to convincing him that he could manage these problems, but he wouldn't hear of it.

He probably wanted me to commiserate, but his worries were rapidly spiraling to general self-loathing.

And we're chatting and he starts talking about how he contemplates suicide.

At first it was very vague, distant, and not present, but as the discussion progressed, he brought the threat more to the present. I kind of thought it was a joke, because he jokes like that sometimes.

But he kept with it and I started thinking he was serious.

Near the end of our conversation, I became firmly convinced that he was serious.

[22:09] The Good Doctor: yeah, well I'm at the near terminus of my life, and wish to bid all those friends along the way adieu

[22:09] Flibby: No, you're not.
[22:09] Flibby: Seriously, stop talking like that.
[22:09] Flibby: You aren't near the end of your life.
[22:09] Flibby: And you should not consume alcohol, ever.
[22:10] Flibby: Particularly when you're stressed like this.

[22:10] The Good Doctor: alcohol saved my life tonight

[22:10] Flibby: You need to call your therapist or something.

[22:10] The Good Doctor: and the valium
[22:11] The Good Doctor: well I just want to to remember the good times we had and how much I appreciated our friendhip
[22:11] The Good Doctor: etc

[22:11] Flibby: You know I hate mushy shit like that.
[22:11] Flibby: Stop being moribund and call your therapist.
[22:12] Flibby: Tell him that you've been drinking alcohol AND taking valium.

[22:12] The Good Doctor: lots of valium

[22:12] Flibby: Are you serious?
[22:12] Flibby: How much valium?

[22:12] The Good Doctor: about 6 of them

[22:12] Flibby: Because I will dial 911 and send them to your house.

[22:13] The Good Doctor: it's cool, valium is very weak

[22:13] Flibby: which you've combined with alcohol.
[22:13] Flibby: And you're in an emotional state in which your judgment on such matters is impaired.

[22:13] The Good Doctor: ha, it's the plastic bag over the head that does you in

[22:14] Flibby: I'm not joking with you.
[22:14] Flibby: I'm going to dial 911.

[22:14] The Good Doctor: well you can do it, but I'm not at home

[22:14] Flibby: Where are you?

[22:15] The Good Doctor: undsiclosed location in Atlanta
[22:15] The Good Doctor: I just need some sleep
[22:15] The Good Doctor: I 've been crying all alfternoon

[22:15] Flibby: So, it won't hurt for me to send cops to your house.
[22:15] Flibby: What's your address again?

[22:15] The Good Doctor: not gonna happen
[22:16] The Good Doctor: fucking worthless life I lead
[22:17] The Good Doctor: oh well, no sense bugging you about it, you will have a wonderful life, I'm sure

[22:17] *** "The Good Doctor" signed off at Tue Apr 17 22:17:57 2007.

First, I called 911 here in New York and asked to be connected to Atlanta 911. They informed me that they are not information but emergency services.

Can I complain for a second about the inability of emergency service systems not being able to reach one another quickly and easily? In this day and age of telecommunications, this befuddles me.

So, I googled Atlanta Georgia Emergency 911. That produced no helpful results.

Finally, I dialed 411 and asked to be connected to emergency services in Atlanta and they got it right.

What an ordeal.

Anyway, I gave them all of his information (I had his address on hand.) and they said they would dispatch police and ambulance services to his house.

We'll see if I ever hear from him again. If I do, we're not friends any more.

Update: I got a text message from him just now (Wednesday, lunchtime) saying he's ok.

What's Going On?

I started a new schedule this week that involves working out in the morning before work and then, two days a week, working out twice a week after work. Summer is coming, so I need to get ready if I intend to nurse the vice of vanity on a beach somewhere.

That is totally my plan for my 30th birthday this year.

Work has been nuts. I'm not sure why, but a lot of things have been going on. Meetings, conference calls, lots of silly questions and time-wasting conversations, a moderate level of productivity.

And since Frenchie is out of the picture, my love life is back to square one. Not a bad thing at all. The frustration of that experience has somewhat lessened my enthusiasm for a relationship or even dating. But assuming the mood strikes me again, I remain positive about the prospect that there is at least one suitable mate out there for me.

That's about it. I haven't had a whole lot of time for other things and when I've had free time, I haven't felt like blogging much.

And so that's that.

Talk to you later!

A Rant About Manners

This discussion has been brewing in comments for a couple of days now. Review the beginning here.

I hope to make my position on this matter clear in this post and put the item to rest. This post started as a comment response to reader Britton's comment on this second post on the topic.

He said:

She would probably not have moved if you called her a fucking idiot though. Just saying. Not that she would have been any less "wrong" but it wouldn't have solved anything to be rude.

I started my response with this:

Why on earth would I have said that to her, though? She wasn't being a "fucking idiot."

You're failing to see the distinction between an honest mistake and a grotesque disregard for one's surroundings.

Let's continue.

The first case doesn't actually bother me very much as long as the person in error moves politely to correct their error. For example, those cases where someone doesn't see or hear me approaching them from behind on the sidewalk and they bump or drift into me. Yes, these things annoy me, but only a little bit and "excuse me" usually resolves

Or maybe two people are chatting and they take to standing side-by-side on the escalator and don't notice me walking up behind them and have no reason to expect that anyone might be approaching them. Again, "excuse me."

Another case are those where someone is attempting to navigate the subway with a babystroller or large bag. This cannot be avoided. They have to manage these things and as long as they remain conscientious of the fact that they are, in fact, taking up more space than everyone else. Polite people in this situation usually beg forgiveness from those they inconvenience. "Oh, that's ok. I understand."

Now consider all those other cases I listed in the previous comment thread.

These are the same people who leave their candy wrappers and cups in the movie theater. These people litter. They stop to talk to their friends in a narrow hall or doorway. They stop short on busy sidewalks. They walk to the front of long lines and pretend to be confused when someone tells them to go to the back -- but sometimes they're successful in cutting in line. They're people who drive slowly in the left lane. They're people who speed up to keep others from passing. They talk loudly on their cellphone in stores and elevators. They're people who wait for 10 minutes in line at McDonald's and still don't know what they want when they get to the cashier.

They're rude. Their lack of due attention to those around them is so outrageous that "fucking idiot" is perhaps the most polite thing I can say to describe them.

A tourist stopping suddenly on the sidewalk is blatant discourtesy, but as has been pointed out, really of minor consequence.

What about the person who slams on their brakes suddenly on a rainy street because they missed their turn? I was in a collision once because someone did that. Granted, it was legally my fault because I was following too closely (I was actually accelerating in order to pass) but their disregard was a physical danger to those around them. Studies show that people on cell phones present a similar danger on the road for the same exact reason.

The problem is that these people are not paying a due amount of attention to what's going on around them.

Courtesy isn't merely a luxury. As I've mentioned, it's a set of rules that allow us to navigate social situations without conflict and often times safely.

The foundation of courtesy is conscientiousness. This means that you have to be aware of where you are and those around you.

We cannot demand omniscience or infallibility. Mistakes happen. Misunderstandings happen. We straight those out with civil conversation.

But when there is no demonstration of even basic conscientiousness and no extenuating circumstances are plausible, how should you respond? It's up to you. The good thing about these rules is that there is no mandate that you must respond in any way at all. You might ignore them. You might attempt to excuse them to others. You might ask them to pay closer attention. You might confront them for their lapse. You might call them a fucking idiot if that's your style.

I am personally a huge fan of talking loudly about how rude the person is. Those of you who know me, know what I mean.

In all cases, let the context be your guide, but I advocate pretty much any action that will bring the offender any level of awareness to their offense.

Note: I think attempting to actually educate these morons is futile. Attempting to explain what courtesy is and why they should be more conscientious will undoubtedly fall on deaf ears. The objective is much more short-range: make them aware of merely the fact that they are in error. Further discussion beyond that should be just for your amusement or that of those around you.

This is why merely saying "excuse me" strikes me as being insufficient to the task. (Of course, your own circumstances may not permit anything more.)

I find myself ranting frequently about this problem of people failing to pay attention and my kindhearted friends always say things like, "Flibby! They didn't know!"

My rebuttal is usually that they SHOULD have known. And those are the cases I'm talking about.

How could you possibly be unaware of the fact that you're walking down a busy sidewalk? The fact is that if you aren't aware of this, you're a menace to society. "Fucking idiot" really is the politest thing one can say about someone like that. (Unless you really are crazy and in that case the politest thing is "fucking certiifiable.")

I'm sure I could go on about this more, but I think you get what I'm trying to say: PAY A'FUCKING-TTENTION!!!!!!

See? Tourists Aren't the Only Ones.

Guy to group of teenagers after doors close on crowded train: You know, in this city we move in on the trains.

Girl #1: We're not tourists, you know.

Guy: Then you should know better.

Girl #1: Oh, just shut up.

Guy: Didn't your father teach you to act better?

Girl #2: Her father is dead.

Guy, after slight pause: Well, maybe that's why she's such an obnoxious little twat.

And I completely agree that she is an obnoxious, little twat.

Oh!

I have a nice story for you people who think that I'm a "fucking idiot" who is "nauseated by everything."

I was on the train this morning reading my book and it was crowded. I was standing off to the side of the door -- my favorite place to stand because it allows me to brace myself against the door without having to touch anything in the train -- and I looked up from my book and realized that there were people trying to get on the train, but it was crowded and I couldn't move to let more on.

I looked over and there was a big empty space in the middle of the train, so I turned to this lady who was next to the space and next to me and said, "Could you step over there, please?"

And then she said, "Oh! Sorry about that. Thanks!"

And I said, "It's quite alright. Thank you."

No, seriously, that's what we said.

And because she moved, I could move and we let another lady on the train and the lady who got on the train said, "Thank you so much!"

And everyone was happy and polite.

Of course, no one was acting like a jackass by pushing or exhibiting a grotesque lack of consideration either.

Jeepers!

Have you seen that movie Jeepers Creepers? Or maybe the sequel, Jeepers Creepers 2: The second night?

They're horror films, so you can probably predict everything that happens in them.

In my opinion, the first film is far better than the second. Up until the actual confrontation with the bad guy, the film is very suspenseful, even scary. The second film is on you watch just for the hot guys in the beginning.

The bad guy in these films is some kind of monster. The first film is terrifying to me because until the very end, you think it's really just this horrible serial killer guy who is very sneaky and bloodthirsty. In the end, you find out that he's not a man but a monster with wings and stuff.

As a man, he wears a black trenchcoat and a wide-brim hat. You don't can't see his face or anything.

I couldn't quickly find a good photo of the bad guy as a man, called the Creeper, and I suspect that's mostly because in the first film you really don't get to see him very well.

Ok. Now, here's the point of this story: The Creeper lives in New York City and he likes to hang out at the Starbucks on W. 39th.

I was over there with my friend Jeff this weekend. We were just hanging out, chatting over coffee, and I looked over and saw him sitting in the corner by himself. Unfortunately, this was one of the very few times that I didn't have a camera on me. But Jeff had his cellphone camera handy. He took this picture so you can see:

(Click to embiggen.)

See? SCARY!!

Tax Time

Well, I just finished filing my taxes. I'm getting a little bit of money back and that's good, I guess.

I'm still pissed off, though, because in order to get that little bit of money back I had to over pay by that amount. And the amount the government alleges that I owe is RIDICULOUS. Tens of thousands of dollars. Down the tube.

Yes, I make use of some government services like police protection and streets, but that doesn't mean that I think those things should be paid for by income tax or that I think the government even should be involved in those things.

And what about things like the War in Iraq? Or to pay for all those pet projects in other states that I will never see or use?

Filing my taxes always puts me in an absolutely foul mood.

I don't like being robbed.

F to the E R G to the I E

Flibby: I wonder why I don't own any Black Eyed Peas albums

Friend: they are fun

Flibby: I agree... people be hatin' on Fergie too much
Flibby: She's probably not right in the head, but that's ok.
Flibby: It's not her head anyone is interested in.

Friend: she was a meth addict
Friend: i think shes doing pretty well for all that shit she did

Flibby: Serious
Flibby: I bet her house is clean

Friend: hahaha

Flibby: Even if she pees her pants.

Friend: shes is a professional taht doesnt want to let her fans down
Friend: she is not a pee in the pants-er

Flibby: That ain't what I heard...
Flibby: http://www.femalefirst.co.uk/celebrity/Fergie+s+pee+confession-7553.html

Friend: no
Friend: she def peed on stage
Friend: im just saying its because she is so professional

Flibby: Oh, def. Without a doubt. Clearly.

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!

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!

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.

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.

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...

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!

Dream, Dream, Dream

I dream a lot. I'm generally pretty good at remembering my dreams. I dream in color. I'm also usually aware of the fact that I am dreaming when I'm dreaming.

Well, the other night, I had a dream that I was standing in the living room talking to my roommate and he was holding a plate on which there was a green, clear ball. In the nature of dream things, it was a grape, a marble, and an odd egg. But it was rolling around on the plate and it rolled off the edge and started to fall to the floor.

In my dream, I lunged to catch the grape/marble/egg so that it wouldn't touch the floor and get dirty or break. (Forgetting, of course, that I'm perfectly capable of stopping or rewinding time in my dreams.) Well, in real life, I sat up in bed and lunged also with my hand extended to catch the falling object.

It was just funny to me that there was no perceived transition for me between my sleeping and waking state. I lunged in my dream just as I lunged in real life and suddenly I was awake with my hand extended out over the side of the bed as if to catch something.

It would have been even more freaky if I had actually caught something in real life.

Bitch & Moan

My face is sore from blowing my nose so much.
My back is sore from coughing so much.
My throat is sore from coughing to much.
My head hurts.
I have a fever.
I'm sweaty.
I'm cold.
I'm tired.
I'm grumpy.
I'm not hungry.

Medical Breakthrough

Apparently, Nyquil and Robitussin are effective treatments for the symptoms of TB. I will probably be dead soon enough, but at least it won't be because I've coughed up pieces of my spleen.

Please continue your mourning process.

Cough

Starting on Saturday I developed a little, tiny cough. By Sunday, the cough was more persistent. Today, I am hacking up a lung.

It's clear: I have TB and I'm dying.

Goodbye, cruel world!!!

Hello, Subway Stalker

This evening on my way back to Queens from Manhattan, I went to the Times Square Station to catch the N, W, or R and I settled into the station for my 20 minute wait for the train. I was not there but perhaps five seconds when a gentleman strolled behind me and stood on the platform to my left.

I stole a few glances at him and recognized that I did not find him physically attractive, but deduced that he was probably also checking me out. I made a point to not let him see me looking at him. (Among us gays, allowing someone to see you checking them out is the first step in initiating a flirtation.)

I read my book while I waited.

When the train came, he got on my car and walked around as if to look for a seat, but returned to the front of the car and sat right next to me for the entire ride.

He didn't say anything, but he shifted nervously a little. Since we were in the little two-seater spot at the front, his every move took place against my hip. I continued to read my book.

I noticed him looking over my book and whatnot. When I got off, I noticed him watching me walk away from the train.

But not once did he even attempt to strike up a conversation on our 15 minute train ride together.

Fortunately, he didn't get off at my stop. That would have been too weird.

Ostrich Feathers, Anyone?

Ok. These videos are seriously gay. Like... gay. I can't begin to explain it. You have to watch both of them.

I can't even begin to list all the good lines.

Typhoid Mary

Yesterday sucked.

I had a fever. My throat was swollen and painful. The worst part was the headache I had, though.

Fortunately, late in the afternoon, it seemed that my fever broke and my appetite returned and I ate a little bit.

This morning, I'm up and around again. I still have chills and sweats a little bit, but my headache is gone and my throat isn't as swollen as yesterday. I'm even at the office although my coworkers may not regard that as a good thing.

Sadly, I don't have time for this sickness. I HAVE to go back to my new apartment and finish painting tonight. Tomorrow night I HAVE to pack my current apartment up because the movers will be there Thursday morning.

So close!

Sickie

I woke up this morning and my throat was killing me. My head also hurts and I'm a little achy. I hope I'm not getting sick, but there's no reason I should have a hangover or any other soreness.

Meanwhile, I still have to paint my apartment.

Yesterday, I spent most of the day riding out to Long Island to Ikea and when I got to my apartment, some friends of my roommate's were crashed in my room and the power was out, so I didn't get any painting done yesterday.

Today, I made it out there and I started priming the walls, but I had to prime EVERYTHING. I got through about 95% of it but the trim is very slow work.

So, on top of not feeling up to snuff, I have to get up in the morning to work out with my trainer, go to work, and then head back out to Astoria to do some more painting.

The move is on Thursday, so I don't have a lot of time to screw around.

*yawn*

I should eat something, but I'm not hungry at all. I think I'm just going to go to bed.

The Winter of Weather Discontent

Once again I was promised snow and once again I was given "Wintry Mix" instead.

Yes, there is snow on the ground here in Hell's Kitchen, but very little. The rest is this mass of messy little pellets of ice. If you go outside, you will be assaulted by these tiny little chips of ice that slide defy physics and find their way down the front of your shirt.

Amusing as that is, it is not snow.

Oh! And the local news has given into the temptation and given this storm a name. It's Nor'Easter 2007!! *Scary music* I haven't seen any special computer graphics or anything, but I'm sure they thought about it.

So disappointing.

Update: I just saw a computer graphic of Nor'Easter 2007. It's official: Even New Yorkers are punks when it comes to cold weather. Not as much as Georgia, but still punks.

Utter Confusion: The Second Shooter?

I just picked up a pair of pants off the floor of my room. They're the pants I wear most often. The belt I wear most often was already threaded through the loops. They're the pants I thought I was wearing. And then I took off the pants I was wearing.

I thought I had broken the time-space continuum or something.

Stain

Well, we sanded the floor and last night my roommate stained the floor in my room. It's a lot redder and darker than we wanted, so we're changing to a different color stain in the living room. Meanwhile, I have to live with the redder, darker stain. It won't be bad at all, but I hate that it's different from the room right through the doorway.

Oh well. I'm not resanding the floor, so that's it. On the bright side, the more that I think about it, the more I think it will go with the color scheme I've picked out.

I'm getting excited about moving out to Astoria, actually. No, it's not Manhattan, but there is a lot going on out there.

I'm just dreading the move.

This week: schedule the movers. Prime the walls.

I should have my room painted and ready for moving in the furniture by the end of the week or the end of next weekend.

Friends with Exes

I've been breaking my own rule recently. I've been talking to ex-boyfriends.

There was this guy I dated for almost a year back in Atlanta and he and I still talk pretty regularly, although he pissed me off a few months ago so I haven't been super pleased to hear from him in general.

Well, I was dating this guy here in NYC that I call The Cuban. We dated for a couple of three months or so. Well, now all of a sudden we've started talking again. We even went to a movie together in a non-date capacity.

Ok, but that's not what I wanted to tell you about in spite of the title of this post.

The Cuban's best friend sent me some text messages this evening. He's a straight man and he invited me out for beers with them. Is that weird?

I understand that I probably have less interest in other people than most but it strikes me as odd that there's this guy that I've hung out with only a handful of times who was so fond of the experience that immediately upon hearing that The Cuban is talking to me again he wants us to all go out for drinks.

So, anyway, next Friday I'm going to not only hang out with an ex, but also his best friend. Just weird.

I'm in Love

Jocks lip synching Bonnie Tyler songs. What's not to love?

They do Moulin Rouge, too.

I Don't Trust...

People with MySpace profiles in which among the top 24 of their friends, only one of them wears a shirt. Por ejemplo: Steve the Hot Comedian.

I also don't like random friend requests from people I've never met or have no idea who I am.

No Before Photos

I went out to my new apartment yesterday to see how it was without that dude in there. It's not bad. It's a hideous mess.

So, immediately, I tore up the carpet, which revealed a floor covered in a shiny, plastic, laminate in a parquet pattern. It's better than the carpet.

Then, I took a bucket of bleach water and wiped down the walls and windows and found that the guy who left had patched holes in the wall with something that dissolves on contact with bleach water. Still, at least it's clean.

The walls are baby blue.

There was one bit of the wall that was cracked and when I picked at the crack, big pieces of a thin coat of plaster and paint came off revealing a nice, smooth under coat of plaster. Hoping the entire wall that was that way, I scraped away a bit more. The rest of the wall was not that way.

We went to Home Depot to buy some paint stripper, paint, plaster patch, and other such things.

And I spent yesterday evening patching holes and stripping paint.

Lessons learned:
- Old carpet is nasty. Old carpet in old, dirty buildings is beyond nasty. I think I have cancer, TB, Bubonic Plague, giardia lamblia, cholera, and fleas now. But, getting rid of it is better than living with it knowing those things are living under there under an inche of pure dirt.

- Do not pick at cracked plaster. Simple remove the offending part and patch that because patching a whole wall is not as easy.

- Paint stripper burns. It burns your hands. It will burn your face. Keep a moist towel handy when applying paint stripper to places that are above your head.

Sadly, I didn't take any before pictures, so I can't share with you the changes I'm making.

Next weekend, we're going to tear up the laminate and refinish the wood floors. Yes, you heard me.

Putting the Ass in Astoria

Well, today begins my four week plan for moving out to Astoria.

Weekend 1 - Clean and paint the room. Move a few books and things, whatever I can fit in my suitcases.

Weekend 2 - My good friend, Italiana de Tal, has offered to make a couple of trips with her car, so I'll move most of the other things that I don't want the movers to take.

Weekend 3 - The movers come and take the furniture and whatever else is remaining. At this point, I will be living full-time in Astoria.

Weekend 4 - Final cleaning and repair of my current apartment. Exit inspection.

I loathe moving, but I am hoping that this very long and deliberate process will help prevent this from being complete hell.

Any Hot, Gay Marines?

Well, my other cousin wrote me a note today telling me that 1) he doesn't care that I'm gay and 2) he's may be heading to Iraq soon. I asked him to hook me up with any hot, gay marines he might know.

I swear, if sodomy doesn't piss off the rednecks any more, I don't what I'm going to do. I mean, I half signed up for the sodomy just for the drama, right? Naturally, the other half was for the sodomy itself. With the hot, gay marines.

Oh! And I called my mom to let her know that the cat is out of the bag and she was mostly not interested in that story. Instead, she wanted to regale me with stories of one of my cousins who is threatening to propose to his girlfriend. Apparently, she wants to get engaged, but she is also in pharmacy school.

It's puzzling to me that someone would have the goal of "getting engaged." It seems like the goal should be "getting married," but according to my mom, she just wants to get engaged.

I saw this would-be pharmacist's picture on MySpace, or at least I think it's the same girl, and my theory is that she's actually a stripper and she wants to pawn the ring to pay her cable bill. That's the kind of girl he seems to get involved with and the cover of the book suits the genre.

So, I think his misguided romances will provide us with more exciting family gossip than my attraction to the more rugged sex. Unless, of course, someone can persuade one of my crazy aunts to forge another letter from my dead grandmother and send that to me.

Drama Called Off on Account of the Weather

Or something. I called my mom last night to tell her that Cousin Booger knows I'm gay.

She really didn't have much of a response. I was hoping for some kind of wailing and gnashing of teeth or at least a flurry of mascara.

No, instead she started telling me about how Cousin Booger is thinking of proposing to his girlfriend. I think that would probably be another in a long line of unwise or ill-timed decisions in his life, but that's his business.

So, it's looking more and more like the rednecks I'm related to aren't going to make this the show I really wanted it to be. I think if I were actually there to stir the pot, then things might be more exciting. As is, I doubt I will hear much more about it.

*sigh*

The weather man better not be lying to me again about the snow or this will be one big week of disappointment. It's supposed to snow some more today and later this week, but I've heard that static before.

They KNOW!!!

Well, my younger cousin, Cousin Booger, also found my MySpace page today and he sent me a friend request. At the moment he sent it, he didn't have a picture, so I didn't know who it was.

After he identified himself, we had the following email exchange.

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Cousin Booger
Date: Jan 29, 2007 1:29 PM

so now dat cha know who you're talkin to, did you want to be my friend? You're profile revealed some things that hit me a little hard when I found out. The way I see it is it is your life and you don't have to feel wierd if you get around me. I still love ya because you are family and always will be.

At this point, I'm somewhat relieved because he's clearly going to be an adult about it. There's no telling what the rest of the family will think or do, but at least this one is hopeful.

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Flibby
Date: Jan 29, 2007 1:33 PM

My parents specifically asked me not to tell anyone else in the family that I'm gay, but with the internet (Woohoo!) it's just not possible to keep something so significant a secret forever.

My opinion is just as yours: It's my life. You know I struggled with it for a long time but part of realizing that I am gay and stop trying to lie to myself about it. It means that I have to be honest and true to myself only. If other people have a problem with it, then it's their problem. My happiness is not contingent upon other people's approval. And I am very happy now.

I'm glad to hear that you don't have a problem with it. That is certainly not how my dad expected you to react.

- Flibby

But I wanted to make it clear to him, should he speak with anyone else, that their bad opinions matter little to me. I could have been more snotty and pointed out that because I haven't seen most of them in several years, their good opinions are also largely irrelevant, but I have manners.

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Cousin Booger
Date: Jan 29, 2007 1:40 PM

Well I am a little wiser now than I used to be. I thaink that is the best part of growing up, you live and learn. Like I said, it is your life, so it doesn't matter if I am offended as long as you are happy with your decision I can't say anything that you don't already know. And I don't intend to!!!

Emphasis added.

Um. Offended? Why should HE be offended by MY homosexuality?

But don't let's make mountains out of mole hills here. He probably doesn't mean "offended." He probably means that he's not gay and probably thinks that it's a sin. That is something completely different.

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Flibby
Date: Jan 29, 2007 1:43 PM

I'm also atheist. I forget that some people might get upset by that, too. Again, happy with that decision, too.

So, there you go.

If there is anything you want to ask me to understand better, please feel free. You know I'll be frank with you, particularly now that I don't have anything to hide.

- Flibby

Again, I'm being gracious. I really need to call my mom and let her know. I forgot to call her last week.

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Cousin Booger
Date: Jan 29, 2007 1:49 PM

Like I said, I'm happy if you are happy. Besides to be honest with you I think that most of the family already had some speculations about the subject. I'm not sure if Uncle Jackass knows, but I don't plan on being the one that tells him.

Between us, I think Uncle Randal also suspects. He's not a complete jackass. Well, yes, he is, hence the name, but he's not a total idiot.

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Flibby
Date: Jan 29, 2007 2:05 PM

I tend to think that if someone can't guess that I'm gay, then they probably aren't participating in reality like the rest of us.

I mean, come on. I'm not the butchest guy on the block. I haven't had a serious girlfriend.. ever. I don't talk about women in any sexual way. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to do that math.

Even so, both my mom and dad asked that I not proactively tell people in the family. I don't care if other people know, but I think they are worried about that some may mistreat me or be rude in some way. Dad's side of the family, especially, isn't renown for its social graces or understanding.

I do appreciate that you are accepting of the fact and, as mentioned, if you're puzzled or concerned about it in any way, please let me know. I would be happy to explain things as well as I can in an effort to dispel some of the ridiculous and wrong ideas that some people have (and I even thought at one time) about what it means to be gay.

- Flibby

He couldn't discuss it further because he was at work. He said we'd chat again another time.

So, anyway, it looks like it's going well. But my parents will probably still freak.

Whatever. I just want to know what drama goes down so I can blog about it.

I'm a Dirty Hippie

Which Dead Rock Star Are You?

You're Mama Cass Elliot, hippie chick singer from the Mamas and the Papas.
Take this quiz!

Quizilla |
Join

| Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code

Out to the Family

Well, here's a little crisis I haven't encountered in quite some time: I've been outed to someone in my family.

My MySpace page makes my sexual orientation pretty clear and one of my cousins recently added me as a friend.

Adding to the hilarity of this situation, he's one of the cousins my mom and dad specifically asked me not to come out to.

Apparently, they won't understand. I just can't wait to have the conversation that starts with, "You see, when two men like each other very much..."

I haven't seen this cousin in over five years. And it doesn't make that big a difference to me personally. But I guess I will have a conversation about it with my mother later just to give her the heads up. I'm not sure how she's going to react. I'll keep you posted.

Get Your Hairs Did!

So, I went to the haircuttery today. No, I didn't get a buzz cut because, as mentioned, I really do look stupid with it.

But I told my stylist, Robb, (Why he has two B's, I do not know.) that I wanted my hair cut short. So, he did his thing and he said, "How's that?"

And I said, "Robb with the inexplicable two B's, I think you can go shorter than that. Let me tell you: I was this close to going and just getting the whole thing buzzed."

He understood completely and went and cut some more off.

LOVES IT.

It is a most excellent haircut and as close to a buzz cut that I think my facial structure can handle. Plus, it's long enough on top that I can actually style it a little bit.

So, anyway, no buzzcut this time, but I love my new hair cut!

New Apartment Pros & Cons

Cons

• It's not Manhattan.


• I will have 2 roommates.


• The apartment is kind of run-down and needs a bit of help.


• I haven't met one of the roommates yet.

Pros

• The apartment is pretty big.


• My bedroom has a view of the Empire State and Chrysler Buildings.


• The roommate I've met is cool.


• The neighborhood is nice and the apartment is near a movie theater, the gym, two subway stations, and other neighborhood amenities.


• Roof access!


• My room is pretty big.


• SUPER cheap rent. I don't usually like talking about money, but I will save over $1,000 a MONTH by moving. A MONTH! That is a lot of clothes.


• No lease. This is a little scary, but it also means I could move out if it doesn't work. I think it'll work, though.

So, I'm pretty excited about this. I think it'll be cool and, of course, I will blog about it.

It's Official: I will be a B&T Person

Yep. I'm going to buy some sweat pants and several gold chains cuz I'm moving out to Queens. Astoria to be specific.

I went back out to the apartment last night with a friend of mine. Then we went to dinner to discuss the pros and cons. At the end of it all, I came to the conclusion that the opportunity is a good one and I should take it.

So, I will head out there in February to start cleaning up my room and painting the walls a color I can stand (right now they're an awful powder blue) and getting the place ready for my stuff.

I have to run to work, so I will have to tell you more about this later.

Did I Mention I'm A Dumbass?

For the past several months, I've been planning my apartment hunt. I moved in on March 15th last year and so I planned on signing a new lease to start March 1 this year and then I would have two weeks to move and get the old place cleaned up.

Until last night, it didn't strike me that it would be very unusual for a lease to start March 15th and not because it's the Ides or anything. So, I checked my lease and it ends March 1.

That means that I need to get a place for February. Even if I move in February 15th-ish, the lease will likely be for February 1.

Also, I have to tell my landlord that I'm not renewing 30 days before expiration and since February is a short month, I don't have as much time as I thought.

AND THEN my landlord requires that if I'm not renewing that my signature be notarized. Such a hassle.

Anywhoodles, I'm checking out two apartments today, but I saw another one late last night that I hope gets back to me pretty quick. It's a bargain down in the East Village.

Naturally, I will keep you posted.

B&T People

A good friend of mine lives in Astoria and she begged me to check out some places in the area because it's a cheap and rather nice in its own way.

I was reluctant, but I took a gander at some craigslist ads and I found a couple of places that seemed pretty good. Then, I found one that looks great and, get this, the rent is just $675 a month!

I'm paying $1,750 right now!!! Yeah, my apartment is awesome and it's in a great location and I don't have to have roommates, but still, I'm excited about the bargain.

And this place is near a couple of subway stations and not too far from my friend's place.

I'm going to go check it out tomorrow, so we'll see.

My only thought is this: I wonder if I could pay less if I were willing to live uptown. I have a friend up at 162nd who is paying $500 a month. Of course, I'd rather live in Astoria than way up there, but it does make me wonder.

More about my hair

I had to conclude my last post because I got distracted by something shiney and then when I came back, I couldn't remember what it was I wanted to say.

Now I do. Mostly.

Another thing I think when I'm considering a buzzcut is that it's just hair. I have little to no risk -- barring some unfortunate encounter with radiation or something -- of going bald, so I know my hair will just grow right back out.

At the same time, I think about the fact that I am going to be hunting for a new job in the next couple of months. This means meeting people who need to be impressed with the way I present myself. Not knowing that your haircut is completely wrong for you is a sure sign that you don't know how to present yourself.

If you've been watching the first few episodes of American Idol, you have seen several people who do not know how to present themselves properly, people who, for reasons that are beyond the scope of this blog or my interest in human psychology, lack the ability to understand how other people will respond to their appearance.

On the other hand, if I cut my hair now, I will have nearly two months before I start interviewing, so it would have time to grow out...

I dunno. I have a great haircut now and it would be a shame to eff it up on a hair experiment.

Buzz Cut

I am so tempted to get my hair buzzed.

SO many hot guys have done the buzz cut and I think it looks super hot. Brad Pitt, Justin Timberlake, Orlando Bloom, Sigourney Weaver, etc.

And while everyone can cut their hair very short, it doesn't look good on just anyone.

I have a fat head. I also have big ears that stick out. Also, when I get my hair cut short, I look like a 12 year old. This is made worse by the fact that I can't grow much facial hair and so I can't do the buzzcut + scruff that I lurve on some guys.

But, I'm still tempted to try it.

Wintry Mix!

It was very cool to wake up this morning, look out the window, and see the big, wet flakes of snow coming down.

It was somewhat unsettling to wake up this morning, look at the television, and see the newscasters freaking out because it was snowing. They had the same tone of voice -- grave but with an edge implying frantic, frayed emotions just beneath the surface -- that the news people in Georgia would have. Every five minutes they were updating the weather forecast and talking about how deadly the roads are right now. Only the lack of an animated WINTER STORM 2007 graphic told me that these people are actually used to seeing snow pretty regularly.

Ummm...

Given how gay my gym is and the reports of lewd and lascivious behavior that go on in the steam room and showers, I was a bit disturbed last night when I noticed the giant bottle of "moisturizing lotion" that the gym provides.

Although there are signs up discouraging people from getting their freak on in the lockerroom, I just think they're mixing their messages with a giant pump bottle of lotion.

New Apartment and Roommate(s) Wanted

Well, it's time for be to start my new apartment hunt. I want to move into a new place around March 1.

I'm really not sure how to go about finding a place without a broker. I've started looking at Craigslist and it looks like they get fairly regular stream of postings for people looking for roommates.

Given my history of granting people too much benefit of the doubt, I will have to conduct my interviews with a friend.

The biggest challenge before me is the fact that I have my own furniture and most folks already have sofas and whatnot. So, as I find a new place, I may also have to figure out what to do with my extra stuff.

I will keep y'all posted on my search progress, of course, but if you have any suggestions, let me know!

Next Time I Cut Without Warning

I went to CVS this evening to buy some toiletry or another that I suddenly and inexplicably found myself without. Those of you who know me, know that I compulsively buy extra toiletries, to the point where I actually require additional storage just for the shampoo, toothpaste, toothbrushes, and other bathroom accoutrements. Yet, somehow, this one escaped me.

Anyway, as I approached the register, I noticed that there were two lines open and neither seemed to be moving very quickly, so I chose the closest one. There were two women at the register, one woman standing about four feet off to the side of the line and me, approaching. So, I stepped up to the line leaving the socially prescribed 24 - 36 inches in front of me to the back of the women at the register.

The woman who was off to the side looked up and said, "Uh. I was in line behind them."

I said, "Oh! That's cool, you can go in front of me. Step up, please." And I gestured to the area where the line would form.

Lines at the register at CVS form perpendicular to the counter and this woman was at a distinct 45 degree angle from the register, at best. She was also 36 to 48 inches away from the next people, so it was unclear that she was in line at all.

She just said, "Well, it's six of one..."

I said, "I don't mind letting you go in front of me, but you need to be in line."

She just looked back at her cell phone and I said, "The nature of lines being linear and all."

She just said, "Well..." and continued to glare at her cell phone, but didn't move.

I am pissed off with myself for letting her go ahead of me still.

I believe she was trying to stand between the two lines an get in the one that would let her get to the register more quickly, because she certainly was not in my line.

So, next time, we might have a little discussion about where the line is... George Castanza style.

I now completely understand why that little bald man screams so much.

It's Possible that I Could Throw You Rather Far

Guess how much I lifted this morning on the hack squat machine.

Did you guess 540lbs?

If you did, you guessed right. Come here. I'll bet I could pick you up. (Unless you're a really great big fat person.)

Wake of Destruction

I cut people a lot of slack. If someone makes an innocent mistake or blunder, I'm pretty forgiving. The people who just make me angry are the ones who display a willful disregard for things going on around them.

This morning I wasn't in a great mood on my way to work. It's rainy here today and my trainer forgot that we were supposed to meet this morning. I didn't sleep well last night and so I wasn't in a great mood.

Then, I go to get on the subway and this dude in front of me with a bag over his shoulder steps onto the train in front of me. He gets as far as the corner of the seats in the train and stops with his bag jutting out blocking passage to the middle of the car. This means that unless someone wanted to push past him, which New Yorkers actually do not tend to do unless it's really crowded, everyone getting on the train had to be bunched into the area right in front of the doors.

I was the person who pushed past him. I made sure to clip his bag and knock it off of his shoulder on my way into the car, too.

He shot me a look that I returned with a blank stare.

This is what I have to say about that: MOVE TO THE CENTER OF THE CAR.

It wasn't crowded this morning, thankfully, so there was absolutely no reason to dry hump perfect strangers on my way to work.

And since it's raining, every mouth-breathing window-licker has an umbrella and is waving it around like they just don't care. In fact, I don't think they do care and that is why for the light drizzle that is spritzing the city this morning, they dug out their huge gold umbrellas of 12' diameter. Naturally, they don't move these umbrellas to the side as the walk down the side walk or raise them up to avoid impaling their fellow pedestrians.

My solution: walk right into them.

You see, there's this fun little principle in physics called rotational inertia. It's just like regular inertia but it applies to rotation. Pull in your concept of leverage and you will know that it is harder to stop the rotation of a lever from the pivot point than it is to stop it from the end that is in rotation.

This is what I think about sometimes.

When I walk into someone's umbrella, the relatively minor collision with my shoulder, chest, or arm sends the umbrella into a spin that the ignorant owner attempts to correct by just using the handle. The bigger the umbrella, the harder it is to stop the spin.

With a well-timed jolt to one of those springy spines, you can send an umbrella tumbling to the street.

Naturally, I did my usual habit of making an effort to steer clear of most of the umbrellas. The ones I didn't try to avoid were the ones that made no effort to avoid me or deliberately ignored me.

So, my hobby this morning was to leave a wake of dropped bags and umbrellas as I walk down the street.

Close Encounters with the D List

I went with a friend to see Joy Behar do some stand-up comedy last night. She was ok. I giggled a lot. She's basically a grouchy, but cute, Italian lady with Jewish flavoring.

But do you know who was in the audience with me, among others? Lisa Rinnar from Entertainment Tonight. Great hair. Seriously, loved it. Her hair had good bounce, good color, nice curl. I applaud you, Miss Rinna. I also completely appreciate how quickly you looked away from me when you realized you didn't know me. It's true that I bite, but you have nothing to fear. Promise.

Ok, but more important than that lady (whom I didn't actually know, but my friend identified for me while I was carrying on about how much I liked her hair) was Tina Louise.

Yes, I said Tina Louise. That would be the actress who played Ginger on Gilligan's Island. She looks fan-freakin'-tastic. Like a pile of melted down credit cards and I mean that in a good way. I completely support having the best looks money can buy and that lady was born in 1934, but she rolled up in the club looking MUCH younger. Like 40's or 50's.

I do have to complain that she was dressed like she was 22, though. With a body like the one she's rockin' I do understand the temptation and in no way would I suggest that she dress like a 73 year old, but we do need to class it up jusssst a smidge.

Even still, I was tickled that she was there.

Paging Tammy Wynette!

I have no idea why my parents are still married. They've been married for over 30 years now and I just do not understand why they have bothered with it for so long.

That's not true. When they were younger, apparently they had a frightening physical chemistry. And for whatever that's worth they've been together far longer than MY good sense would dictate. But it's not my marriage, so I try to bite my tongue.

The problem is that my dad is a lazy man who is prone to extremes. For instance, when my dad started going back to church, he turned into a crazy Jesus lover. He started going to church some four times a week and thumping his Bible at the least of provocations. He forced me and my sister to go to church against our wills saying that as long as we live under his roof, we had to attend the church of his choosing.

And before that he was a smoker from which I believe a series of epa lawsuits were spawned regarding the endangerment of some migratory birds.

Now he's taken up drinking. This, as you might guess, can't go anywhere good. Fortunately, I think his alcohol-related activities are confined to 1) spending too much money on expensive scotch and 2) sleeping.

But my mom isn't entirely innocent in the whole ordeal. She tends to nag and pitch fits. She can be quite high strung. Her worst habit in my opinion is that she simply will not face the facts, particularly when it comes to what sort of person my dad is and for that I really have a hard time sympathizing with my mother's personal hardship.

They've been talking about building a house for years and years. For the past 15 years at least. Well, in 7th grade I remember telling my mother, "You guys are not going to build a house, so I don't know why we bother talking about this so much."

My mother was so upset by that. She told me not to say that because she just knew it would happen.

They still haven't build a house. They haven't even made the first step in that direction and it's 15 years later.

And it's not just my dad, I think. My mom fails to identify other people for who they are, too. Like my sister. No matter how snotty, rude, or ungrateful my sister is, my mom still acts like she has to love her. I can't imagine what my mother thinks of me.

When my mother has complained about my dad, I've tried to explain to her that his behavior is a function of his identity. It's who he is. She's the same way.

And so my mother is talking about divorcing my dad again.

I doubt she'll do it. She's in her mid-50's now. Getting a divorce now will put her in an even more precarious financial situation than the one she's in with him. But she's talking about it.

Really, I kind of think it would be a good idea because I don't see a lot of sense in putting up with things like that longer than necessary. But I dread having to tell my mother than I will not support her in her old age. I've already told her that I will ship her off to an old folk's farm at her expense if she turns to me. Maybe that's why she bothers with my sister, because I know my sister would take care of them.

Resolute

A friend of mine told me that if I didn't make my resolutions BEFORE midnight last night, then I wouldn't be able to keep them. Since my resolutions from last year were a distinctly mixed bag and I see how other people do with their resolutions, let's just say I'm not sweating this deadline formality thing.

So, here's what I've decided to do with my resolutions. Mostly, I'm going to reprise the theme of "The Year of Kicking Ass" because that is how I roll, y'all.

And instead of just making a crazy list of particulars, I'm going to go the "areas of focus" route. So, here are my areas of focus and my thoughts on the direction I'd like to go with them:

Health & Fitness
Naturally, I'm going to keep working out. I don't know if I will keep my trainer because working out with him puts me in conflict with my second area of focus, finance. If I do not work out with him, then I need to find a buddy to lift weights with me. This has its own challenges because I like to work out in the morning before work and most people aren't into that.

I don't know if I'm going to start back running this year or not either. I'm enjoying weight training and the results I've seen with that, plus it doesn't require me being outside either sweating or freezing by buns off. And it also doesn't threaten to make my toenails come off.

Finance
Definitely need to be more responsible in the money department. Number one action I will take here is moving to a cheaper apartment probably with a roommate. Having a roommate will help in the relationships area below, too, I think.

Career
I'm getting a new job this year. I'm moving into phase 2 of my career plan and there's no sense in sitting around waiting on things that may or may not happen. So, I will either be in sales or account direction or strategy by this time next year.

Arts & Culture
I want to focus more on reading and writing and continuing my, admittedly very unfocused and informal, study of storytelling.

I will continue with Samba classes for a while.

I'm also giving thought to trying to learn a third language this year. It will probably be Italian since I have a good friend who is already fluent. We'll see. My Spanish is so rusty that I feel like I should dedicate some time to brushing up on that first.

The point of this area of focus is really just to continue my intellectual growth and joyful experience of life in New York and on planet Earth.

Relationships
I'm a good friend to people, but I'd like to focus on spending more quality time with friends. Also, I want to get out more and meet more people. I'm a little bit shy around people I don't know and I'm inclined to just stay in my apartment forever, so this will be a personal challenge for me.

I won't say that I'm giving any thought toward romance although I know at least one of my friends made "find a boyfriend" a resolution of his. Yes, it would be nice to meet "the one" but I'm not sure there is any active means of finding him other than just getting out, living life, meeting new people, and having a good time with people you enjoy. That's what this area of focus is about.

A Question for the Hetero Fellas

Let's say that you are a trim but well-muscled young man in your late 20's to early 30's living in New York and your roommate is a big, buff, worked out guy. Would you walk around in white low-rise, briefs?

I'm just asking because the guys across the street are super hot and until I saw that I thought they were straight.

Cuz I think if you're that hot and you're straight, you probably aren't going to just parade around in your skimpy undies unless you're drunk and/or there is a female involved. But I'm also not familiar with the boundaries of heterosexual male interactions.

Thoughts?

Also, if these guys are gay, why can't they make out in the kitchen now and then where I can see them?

More on my Sister

I've called her twice this morning and I haven't heard from her. Because she takes after my dad so often, particularly in her tendency to sleep for hours numbering in the double digits, I'm worried that she won't be here in time to get me to the airport.

Fortunately, if she is too late, I have the keys to one of my parents' other cars and I can drive myself. Unfortunately, that means my parents will be burdened with making another trip to Jacksonville to get their car back.

She had better get here on time!

P.S. In a show of support for a fellow fighterfighter who has cancer and has lost his hair due to chemo, many of the firefighters in my sister's station shaved their heads bald. My sister opted for a buzz cut. I officially have the longer hair between the two of us. (It has always been the better in terms of style.)

Update: Hobag called and is on her way. She sounds like she had a bowl of bitchyflakes this morning, too. I can't wait to spend two hours in her tiny car!

Tornado Watch

Merry Christmas, y'all!

My sister, the firefighter, works 24 on/48 off and she had to work today, so we had our Christmas celebration yesterday.

Today, there is a tornado watch until 3pm.

On the bright side, the pond is getting some of its water back and the swamps are regaining some of their swampiness.

No, no white Christmas for south Georgia. Par for the course.

So, my sister isn't here now. It really wasn't as bad as I had expected. She didn't show her ass too much.

Well...

Ok. For the past three days, my mom has pretty much spent all of her time cooking and cleaning. When I came in the door, I immediately joined the fray.

When my sister got here, she was less enthusiastic. Par for the course.

But she's so bad. Like, we're standing in the kitchen cleaning up the latest round of dishes. My mom asked my sister to dry while she washed. I was doing something else at the time. My sister dried perhaps three things and then went off to mix up more cookies.

Note: The cookies my sister was making weren't for us. The cookies my sister was making were for the firefighters. We had already been over this: we would complete Christmas dinner and then return to baking, but my sister didn't listen.

So, there we are trying to cook dinner and get cleaned up. I come back into the kitchen and see my mom washing and the growing mountain of wet dishes. So, I grab a towel and start drying. My sister isn't really able to complete her mixing because we have all the dishes and because we were in the way.

My mom's kitchen isn't very big. If three of us are in there cooking, we can easily move around one another. My dad can't fit in there with the rest of us because he is fat, slow, and largely oblivious to the fury of activity around him. (He's one of those people who are in your way but, really and truly do not realize it.) But if we're washing dishes, we block off a quarter of the kitchen and we're not able to move because that's where the sink is.

So, my sister is trying to mix cookies, but not doing so very efficiently and my mom and I are working on the latest round of dishes. Not realizing that she had been asked to dry, I asked my sister to put away the dishes as I dried them.

She put away perhaps three things before returning to her extremely inefficient attempt at mixing up cookies that are not on a deadline like the rest of the meal we're trying to prepare.

Par for the course.

My dad tries to be helpful but does not recognize his strengths and limitations. He should confine himself to the yard, the grill, washing dishes, or other tasks that either fix him to a spot out of the way or set him in another area away from other activity.

My sister is preoccupied with some interest of her own and will not listen to reason when it comes to how her interests can be scheduled so as to not interfere with everything else. She acts as if my mother and I will try to prevent her from baking her cookies and so she has to just do it herself immediately. Never mind that my mom and I are trying to prepare a dinner and we need the mixer and other things.

So, that was just one thing.

The other thing happened after dinner. We finished dinner, we got everything cleaned up. We were sitting down to perhaps watch a movie and my sister went back into the kitchen. I don't think she was making cookies; I think she was just packaging up leftovers to take with her. That's totally fine.

What wasn't totally fine was that after my sister got all of her food loaded into her car and she's headed out the door, she's saying goodbye to everyone and she pauses and calls to my mom, "Oh. I left a mess in the kitchen." And with that she was gone.

My mom didn't want to worry about it, so this morning she got up and did another sink-full of dishes.

When she's in a good mood, my sister's conversation is centered around the highly specialized interests of firefighters or law enforcement... or even trucking. (She has a job that involves interacting with truckers.) In a word: boring.

Now, you might object and picture the glamorous life of firefighters who spend their lives fighting dangerous fires, saving lives, and coming home to relationships strained by the necessary emotional distance they foster in themselves. RE: Backdraft, World Trade Center, or one of those television shows that I haven't seen, but I know are out there about firefighters or cops.

No. Firefighters in Savannah apparently spend most of their time playing pranks on one another, taking their firetrucks out to run errands, and just being redneck asshats. They don't fight very many really big fires. They do rescue cats from trees. They do go to the scene of car collisions and use those machines to bust open the cars to get people out. Mostly, it's uninteresting.

And my sister wants to tell you about every uninteresting minute.

And please do not disagree or point out that the chosen course of action is not the most obvious logical next step.

I have an example. We were all sitting in the living room yesterday and my sister says, "Flibby, will you do me a favor?"

"Maybe. What is it?"

"I need you to go by one of the firehouses in New York and --"

"Oh, no."

"-- I need you to ask them for a copy of their uniform SOP's."

"No. I am not going by a firehouse for you."

"But I'm on the uniform committee and I need to review other departments' uniforms so that we can pick out new things for us."

Now, I do not know why any research is necessary for this project of hers. We're talking about a polo shirt and a pair of pants. The question is what color polo shirt and pants. I suppose they can choose button-down shirts and t-shirts as well, just to offer some variety. But that hardly makes the case that one should consult with any number of other fire departments for official statements of their uniform requirements.

Anyway, I ask, "Why don't you just call FDNY and ask them to fax you a copy?"

She just made a goofy face and shook her head as if I were a retarded person asking something completely unreasonable.

I continued, "That's what I would do. I would just call them and say, 'Hey! I'm on the uniform committee for the Savannah Fire Department, could you please fax me a copy of your uniform SOP?' and I bet they would do it."

She continued to shake her head and make the ugly face.

"I'm still not going to go by a firehouse in New York. What? I just walk up, the homo that I am, 'Hey, fellas! I'd like to know more about those snappy uniforms!' It's not going to happen."

She was not pleased by my unwillingness to assist her in this capacity.

I am unclear as to why she thought I would be willing to do that or that it would be a good idea. But that's how she is.

Oh! Get this!

One of my redneck cousins stopped by the house the other day when my sister was here and they asked how I like NYC. I told them that I love it.

My cousin remarked that he had visited twice and he liked it but he didn't think he could live there. I told him that the city probably isn't for everyone, but I love it and that it's an incredible place to live.

My sister piped in saying that she would not like to live there either. She doesn't like the idea of 4 million people being in a 2 square mile area.

She has been to NYC before. She knows that there aren't just 4 million people milling around on a 2 mile by 2 mile plane. I've told her repeatedly that Manhattan is a 13 miles long and 2 miles wide at its widest point and that the population swells to 8 million during a business day. She has seen it and she knows that there are huge buildings to contain everyone and offer everyone their own space.

But still she persists in misrepresenting life in New York City. Her hyperbole is masked in unsubstantiated numbers and amounts to nothing but a lie.

I don't care if people don't want to live there. It is crowded. The traffic is bad. Some people are rude. There are lots of dirty things in the City. Personally, those things don't bother me very much and there is so much more to life in New York that they don't matter to me.

I'm sorry, country mouse, but just because New York isn't for you doesn't mean you have license to make things up.

Oh and she's still on this "I don't eat pork" kick. As kids, she loved ham. She used to eat it all the time. In the past few years, she's suddenly decided that she doesn't eat pork. That didn't keep her from the broccoli cassarole, though. I delighted to tell her that we had put pork in it, too. She ate it, though. So much for keeping kosher or whatever stupid idea she has in her head about pork.

And those weren't the only "white" lies I observed her telling in the two days I was around her.

I used to just find my sister somewhat unpleasant at times. There were cases in which she was pleasant and fun. It's been a while since I've seen that side of her.

These days I actively dislike my sister. She's rude and unpleasant. She lacks integrity and honesty. Rationality is not a strong characteristic in her at all. She's just a thoroughly unpleasant person, if you ask me.

I hope to interact with her as little as possible. Unfortunately, she's supposed to drive me to the airport. It's 2 hours to Jacksonville from here.

*sigh*

My Sister is Such a Dyke

My sister last night strolled over to the couch last night, flopped down and announced in a deep, gruff voice, "I had to crack open a Saturn Sky the other day. Talk about a tin car."

No one had been talking about cars, Saturn cars, or her use of the jaws of life.

She's a firefighter.

I wish she would just come out of the closet. I think there's a chance that if she found a girlfriend that she wouldn't be such an insufferable bore and, perhaps, even a little pleasant.

Who knows? I just know that I don't want to talk about cracking open cars because I do not care about that at all.

I'm sure more stories of her lesbionic powers of wonder will follow. I can't just run to the computer every time, so I will update you when I can.

This is Georgia. We Don't Believe in Winter

It's supposed to be 76 degrees here today. It's been raining for the past several days, so the humidity is pretty bad. I feel like I'm wearing the towel I used to dry off with when I got out of the shower.

Yeah, it's pretty ick.

And Thursday was the solstice. Welcome to winter!

My Parents Have Lots of Mucus

I'm developing a little bit of a germphobia.

I hate touching the subway with my bare hands... or any public doorknobs, actually.

And my parents are always coughing and hacking and spitting mucus into kleenex and it's grossing me out.

Clearly, my fear of germs is irrational.

Update: My sister stayed at my parent's house last night and she also has some kind of disease. She's coughing and sniffing and acting all gross.

I am surrounded by living petri dishes!!!

Made It!

My flight was only delayed by an hour last night, but by 4 am, I was safely ensconced in my parent's southern Georgia winter chalet.

It is raining here but the swamps are shockingly dry.

I miss my skyscrapers.

Silent Night

So, did you know that Christmas is, like, Monday? Yeah, the Monday that's coming up after this weekend that is almost here.

Did you finish your shopping? Fortunately, I got all mine done the Wednesday after Thanksgiving. (This, people, is why I am sometimes an overwhelminingly competent project manager.)

But I have to get on an airplane tonight and go to Georgia. Actually, before all that, I have to:

- Buy a cheesecake.
- Go to work.
- Get a haircut.
- Figure out how I'm going to get to LaGuardia, hopefully without spending more than $15.
- Walk around a lot with my luggage in tow.

So, yeah, Georgia, here I come. Woo. No, that should be, "Woo. Woo." Because that's how enthused I am about it.

Five days.

Georgia.

It's raining there.

They don't have big buildings there.

They don't have Manhattan there and that should be reason enough.

Five days.

With my family.

*sigh*

I'm not really looking forward to it at all.

There's dirt and bugs and wild animals... and my cousins.

I haven't been blogging because I haven't had much to say, really. This isn't the forum where I talk about the news. My personal life is... quiet. Work is rocking on.

So, anyway, that's about it.

Georgia, I'm coming for you.

Reflecting on Resolutions: The Year of Kicking Ass

Last year's resolutions were almost a total flop, y'all. I'm very disappointed in you.

Health and Fitness - Continue weight training, incorporate speed training for running, focus on maintaining a consistent diet that supports my goals.

Career - Get a new job in the area of sales engineering. This will give me sales, client, and travel experience.

Education - I'm going to start taking classes from the OAC in September when the new academic year begins for them. I'd also like to work on Spanish, German, and French this year. (I've already started on German, so I have to keep that going.) And, also, I'm WAY behind on my reading.

House - I have several projects in line around my house and yard, but I want to make sure that I only have one or two projects going at a time and that I finish one completely before starting another.

I'm also woefully in debt these days with student loans, a mortgage, credit cards, etc. It's terrible.

But I still think 2006 was about kicking ass. I mean, I've gained 15 lbs of muscle. I moved to New York. I have a new job in my target industry.

But 2007 looks promising, so I'm not sweating those things. I can and will handle it. Plus, I turn 30 in 2007, which I'm kind of looking forward to.

I love guys in their early 30's, so maybe this will be a good year for romance, too.

I'm going to ponder my 2007 resolutions for the next few days and I will let you know how they turn out.

13 Hours

OH my goodness! I slept for 13 hours last night!

I didn't think I was that tired and usually I sleep for 8 hours and just wake up, but not last night.

CRAZY!

Who wants to go with me to Union Square for hot cider and gingersnaps?

Holiday Party Professionalism, Networking, and Manners

I have this friend who works for a pretty cool company that I am sort of interested in for one of my next jobs. So, he's a good connection as well as a fun guy to hang out with now and then. This past weekend he and I were out on the town and he said, "Hey! You should come with me to my company Christmas party! It'll be fun!"

And he described the open bar and the ice skating rink they had rented out. Drinking + Ice Skating. What could present a better networking opportunity or more hilarity?

So, I happily accepted his invitation.

On Monday, when I asked him about the details, he was vague and sort of reluctant. (It's hard to read people on Instant Messenger.) He mentioned some other friend that he was going to see at the gym and some other things and basically tried to talk about something else.

I was annoyed with that because I'm a planner. I like to know what's going to happen in advance. When I get up in the morning, I like to know what trains I'm going to ride that day. That sort of thing.

So, today, I asked him again about the party and he was vague again and I decided to call him on it.

Flibby: Is it still cool that I come along with you? I don't want to crash your company party or anything. Friend: i think its ok. the invite says bring a guest and kids are welcome... Friend: so ur my guest and [his friend] is my kid ;-) Flibby: hahahahaaaa... Flibby: Well, I really appreciate the invitation and I would love to be there, but if you've already used your guest invite on Erica, I don't think I should overburden the guest list.

By my interpretation of this discussion, I think he had already invited his friend and inviting me was a decision made under the influence of alcohol and now he's uncertain about it.

I have my doubts that I will be attending that party although he took pains later in the conversation to say that he thought it would be ok and that he would call me when he got to the party to see if it's ok that I attend.

I'm not hopeful and I'm only mildly annoyed by this. Yeah, he could have been more upfront with me about his reluctance, but these things happen. It's not the end of the world and there are other things to do tonight.

I was invited to another holiday party by another friend of mine and there's a birthday party for yet another friend that is happening tonight, too.

The biggest disappointment is not having the opportunity to make connections with folks at his company. It would be nice to meet some of those people before they see my resume in a few months.

Where You Should Not Stand and Check Your Text Messages

On the dance floor.

That's all I'm saying. Just don't be that guy.

Internet is Back!

It looks like those boobs at Time Warner are making some progress in fixing the cable and internet in my building because the person who set up their wireless network for the building is back up and running.

I now have a strong, consistent, ethical access point for getting online!

Yehaw!

Now I just have to find a friend who will let me watch Heroes and House at their apartment by the time new episodes start in January.

*yawn*

I woke up about an hour ago and I can't seem to get back to sleep.

It's hot in my apartment. I remembered that I forgot to order peanut butter from Fresh Direct. I remembered that Fresh Direct forgot my gatorade. I can't remember what it was I was working on before I left work last night. It seemed important.

*yawn*

I guess I should at least get in bed in case I get sleepy.

I've been up for an hour. I was supposed to go to the gym in the morning, but if I'm sleepy, I know I won't.

We'll see!

Update: I think I got back to sleep a little after 4. As a result, I overslept this morning by about two hours. It's a crazy day!

Tina Fey, You're In. Matthew Perry, You're Out.

Did anyone get to see an episode of that show Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, starring Matthew Perry as someone who isn't funny?

I did. It sucked.

Meanwhile, for some reason, I sniffed at the new Tina Fey show called 30 Rock until I caught part of an episode via the treadmill at the gym.

HILARIOUS.

Tina Fey is a funny lady. So is that wacky Baldwin guy minus the being a lady part. He's kind of attractive, too, but I'll bet he has a really big belly. (I'm putting him down as a 6 or a 7.)

It really is a hysterical show. I can't even begin to tell you.

I would totally hang out with Tina Fey. I'll bet she's a lot of fun in a very low-key way and I dig that. I wonder if she needs a roommate.

Tina! I'm going to be looking for a roommate in February/March. Let's do lunch and see how things go. I think we'd be great.

Christmas List

In my family, we publish Christmas lists. Some people think this is silly or de classe, but much like Michael Hartney (a red-headed comic bear that I have a little internet crush on) Christmas lists are absolutely necessary in my family, although for different reasons.

First of all, yes, there are all the phone calls.

Second, I'm hard to shop for unless you're my best friend or roommate. See, I tend to run out and just buy the things I want. And it would be next to impossible for you to guess those little odds and ends that I want but am unwilling to just rush out and buy because they are likely out of budget or aren't worth the additional expense. (Don't mistake something that isn't worth the additional expense as something cheap or unwanted. Luxury items are often in this category because their expense fails to be worth it to me. Yeah, they're great, but I can live without them, so it's easy to squelch my impulse to buy.)

My mother is like me in this way.

My dad and my sister are the opposite. They're impossible to shop for because they lack a sense of luxury or a rationally bounded desire for material wealth. If you ask them what they want, they often say things like, "Socks" or "a gun" or "typing paper." Seriously, my sister asked for a Glock one Christmas and my dad does often tell us that he wants shirts and socks, but he doesn't mean fancy ones. He means white socks and blue shirts.

My mother and I can be very creative shoppers. We don't actually need lists because we could probably come up with something really cool for each other. But my dad and sister probably wouldn't appreciate our gifts as much as we appreciate them for them.

For instance, I would buy my sister clothes. But if I were a woman with my sister's figure (Who are we kidding? I would be SO much hotter than she is.) I would not wear the crazy lesbian clothing she's obsessed with.

Oh, you don't know what lesbian clothing looks like? Well, control-top jeans, t-shirts that are designed without sleeves but with logos or Tweety-birds. Ugly, mannish, unflattering clothing.

Lesbians, settle down. You brought this on yourselves. And if you cite shirts with ruffles on the cuffs and collar, I will have to admit that it's pretty gay.

Anyway, neither my dad nor my sister can be trusted to dress themselves, but they hate it when others presume to point out that their bras don't fit.

Hi! I'm gay and I know more about where boobs are supposed to be than many people who are genetically endowed with them.

Also, when my dad and sister shop, they don't know what to buy. I was given batteries for Christmas one year. I also received a whisk broom and dust pan another year.

So, we have to have lists.

If you want to ensure that you get one particular thing for Christmas, make a short list, put that thing at the top, include links to where it can be purchased, and tell everyone that you really only want that one thing.

Unfortunately, this does not lead to much surprise for you on Christmas.

I recommend the "long list" approach. This means that you make a very long list and then you give people lots of options at different price levels and then you're actually surprised Christmas morning.

Compare my sister's list with my list.

Sister's List

DVD SETS
DUE SOUTH (1,2,3,4)
THIRD WATCH SET (1-6)
PRETENDER (1-4)
NCIS (1-2)
GREY'S ANATOMY (2)
KYLE XY (1)
RESCUE ME (3)

BOOKS
LITTLE RED BOOK OF FIRE HOUSE PRANKS

OTHER THINGS
TIVO
PS2 GAMES
VACUUM CLEANER (I LIKE MOMS)
KNIFE BLOCK
TOASTER OVEN (BIG ENOUGH TO COOK A LITTLE PIZZA)
A DOWN ALTERNITIVE MATRICE COVER PAD (QUEEN)

I should also point out that had I not already decided on her gift, I would be very upset with this list. It's too short, too vague at points, and contains nothing that I would care to buy someone for Christmas.

Also, I realize my spelling isn't perfect, but "matrice" is actually how she thinks a person spells "mattress." She also thinks that "mirror" is spelled "miro." I don't know why.

I also don't know why her list is in all capital letters.

Flibby's List

General Gift Ideas
Ski Blades & boots (I wear size 11 shoes)
Wrist watch
Black and brown belts to which I can affix different belt buckles
Cool belt buckles for said belts
Grey, white, brown, blue, or green hoodie (I have red & black. The Gap has a white hoodie with red inside the hood that I really like. I wear a Large.)
Socks with fun colors and patterns. (Avoid cartoon characters. Think argyle, stripes, polka dots, etc.)
Bose IE headphones
Homesite 5.0

Books
Next by Michael Crichton
http://www.amazon.com/Next-Michael-Crichton/dp/0060872985/sr=8-1/qid=1164636388/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/102-5152665-6351330?ie=UTF8&s=books

Hannibal Rising by Thomas Harris
http://www.amazon.com/Hannibal-Rising-Thomas-Harris/dp/0385339410/sr=11-1/qid=1164636424/ref=sr_11_1/102-5152665-6351330

Phantom by Terry Goodkind
http://www.amazon.com/Phantom-Chainfire-Trilogy-Sword-Truth/dp/0765305240/sr=1-1/qid=1164636457/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/102-5152665-6351330?ie=UTF8&s=books

Sparrowhawk VI: War by Edward Cline
http://www.amazon.com/Sparrowhawk-VI-War-Bk/dp/1596921986/sr=1-1/qid=1164636536/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/102-5152665-6351330?ie=UTF8&s=books

The Complete Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0740748475/ref=wl_it_dp/102-5152665-6351330?ie=UTF8&coliid=I2MSOYATZVUM86&colid=GRJZW0J9SU5E

The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins
http://www.amazon.com/God-Delusion-Richard-Dawkins/dp/0618680004/ref=pd_ys_home_pop_img/102-5152665-6351330

DVDs
Steel Magnolias
Strictly Ballroom
Moulin Rouge
Muriel's Wedding
Dangerous Beauty
Chicago
Buffy the Vampire Slayer Seasons 2+ (I have the first season only.)
Serenity: The Firefly Movie
Superman Ultimate Collector's Edition (with all the Superman movies)
Spiderman 1 & 2
Bourne Identity
Bourne Supremacy
Indiana Jones (all of them)
X-Men (1, 2, and 3)
Terminator 2
Pirates of the Caribbean (1 & 2)
French Kiss
Clueless
Grosse Pointe Blank
The Lord of the Rings Trilogy

Stocking Stuffer Ideas
iTunes gift certificates
Banana Republic Gift Certificates
Wine accoutrements

I'm actually disappointed in my list this year. Usually, it's much longer and I cross-reference everything with links, but I was in a rush to put my list together this year.

So, there you have it! Get to shopping!

Be Gone!

I decided this morning to cancel my service with Time Warner Cable and not replace it with anything.

Yes, it will be annoying to not be in control of my own internet connection, but I will have a connection; one of my neighbors leave his/her wireless network unencrypted and labled "For my building" so I won't have to steal it either.

I will save money and headaches by not having to deal with Time Warner. AND because I won't have advanced television, I will have a lot of time to do other things.

Like blog. Woo!

Or go to Union Square for hot cider and gingersnaps.

The antenna to my television will give me some basic television options, though, so it's not like I'll be completely out of the loop. And I could re-subscribe to Netflix if I am really hurting for some televisual stimulation.

So, anyway. Time Warner and I broke up. I think I'm more angry about the whole thing than they are, but we'll both survive some how.

I'm Stealing Internet Right Now

When I got home from work on Friday, I found that I had no internet connection and my cable was out. Immediately, I called Time Warner to report the problem. They said there was an outage.

On Saturday, when it seemed like every single one of my friends was busy or pretending like they have lives apart from the time that coincides with mind, I called again. No update or progress.

Today, I walked into my building and this dude from the second floor was complaining loudly about it.

Sidebar: Dude's body is awesome. His face isn't all that, but his current haircut really works for him. I know about his body because when it's warm out he walks his dog without a shirt on. His body is so good, you miss the face. And it's not his whole face, it's his teeth. He has a huge space in between his front two teeth. But his abs and pecs and the lines created by his obliques... um...

He was complaining about the outage.

Apparently, not everyone in the building was out of service. That is not symptomatic of an "outage."

No. The problem was that they were supposed to switch us all over to a new network, but failed to do so and when they shut down the old network, those of us, including myself, lost service.

The kind folks at Time Warner implied a couple of times that I was to blame for not scheduling an appointment to be changed over. Unfortunately, I was able to throw their own records in their face and pointed out that on September 13th, I was in fact home and I did speak with TWO technicians who both said they could not complete the change over due to some technical problem.

As it turns out, those technicians failed to follow up on the issue. And so, we were never switched over.

When I called back this evening with this new information, I was in a fit. They admitted the wrongdoing, but said that the earliest they could get here to fix it was December 13th.

UNACCEPTABLE.

If you know me, as many of you do, you may have heard my "professional" angry voice. It's the once that is only slightly lower in pitch than my normal speaking voice, but whatever southern accent I usually have, is gone. My words are sharply punctuated and clearly enunciated. I don't swear and I don't raise my voice. I've never met anyone who mistakes that tone of voice for anything but serious and uncompromising.

Well, a superviser at Time Warner got an earful of that. I told her the whole story. I laid waste to every ridiculous implied counter-argument she made. I explained that in order for me to work with them at this point, I would lose even more money (because it would cost me time off from work) to stay home and wait for them. And by the end of it, she was verbally running for cover.

One of my final remarks to her was that unless this came to a speedy resolution, this would represent the end of our business relationship.

Verizon offers cable and internet services. I'm sure their pricing is competetive.

So, tomorrow, I will be on the phone again with Time Warner explaining why December 13th is unacceptable. 26 apartments of 36 are without service. They need to fix this right away.

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.

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!

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*

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!

Vertigo: I'm Falling Over Myself for You!

I had a weird case of vertigo and a headache this morning. I also woke up with a sore throat.

I didn't have breakfast, but when I got to work I had two glasses of orange juice and a bowl of Fruity Pebbles and some water.

My friend Daniella thinks maybe it was low blood sugar or something, because, well, it really could be.

But I ate lunch just a little bit ago and I can still feel it although it's not as strong as it was.

It's quite unsettling.

Update: I am having a host of odd, slight symptoms. I've slight sore throat, slight cough, slight congestion, slight headache, slight vertigo, slight nausea. I've never experience anything quite like this before. Weird.

Evanescence

Whistling and the sound of Amy Lee's voice are the two most annoying, allegedly musical sounds known to man.

RARRR!!! I'M A DINOSAUR!

The sandwiches that I made for my lunch today were soooooo good.

The title of this post has nothing much to do with anything except I like dinosaurs.

Sexually Confused

I haven't mentioned this before because it kind of freaks me out a little bit, but I can't hold it in any longer.

There is this girl in my office who completely turns me on.

She's got this whole sexy librarian look going.

She has beautiful, smooth, creamy skin and cheeks that look like they were kissed by pink roses. She is sort of tall and holds herself with confidence and poise, but somehow she manages to come off as petite and extremely feminine. It's not like she's a supermodel or anything, but she is so beautiful!

Great legs. Don't get me started.

I'm totally gay and all but this woman is so frikkin' attractive.

My New Lockerroom

I changed my "home" gym the other day. I belong to NYSC and they have locations all over the place. You can go to any of them during off-peak hours, but you can go to your home gym any time it's open. I changed my gym to one closer to work so that I can work out during lunch and right after work.

So, tonight I went over there for my first workout in the new gym.

When I went into the lockerroom to change my clothes, I selected a bench near some available lockers and set down to take off my shoes and change my clothes.

Immediately, a man came into the lockerroom and walked toward me. He came over to my bench and stood next to it and stared at me while he took off his clothes and I changed mine.

Next, a guy came out of the showers and went to the lockers opposite the ones I was putting my stuff into. He started getting dressed, but didn't face his lockers, he faced the rest of the room.

Then some guys over to my left were doing the same thing.

Now, where I come from, one minds one's own business in the lockerroom and faces one's locker. You don't frolick about naked or pay an excess of attention to the other men in the room.

Not here.

I asked a friend of mine who works out there rather frequently. It turns out that I've joined a cruisey gym.

On the upside, my membership fees are $20 cheaper each month.

But it's kind of obnoxious to have people staring at me while I'm minding my own business. I'm all for the man-on-man lovin' but there's a time and a place and the lockerroom is not the place... except in some certain videos. And I don't want my gym to be the home of THAT lockerroom.

And there do seem to be more attractive men at this gym than my old one, so that's kind of good.

But now I'm going to spend lots of time thinking about fungi and little tiny bugs and all sorts of unpleasant things. Things Purel can't help with.

Hey, maybe I'll find a workout buddy at this gym since they're all so friendly...

One of Those Days

So, work was kind of a drag today. Same thing yesterday.

I really just don't have much to do. All of my projects are in phases where I'm waiting for other folks to get back to me on things. I'm pretty much just sitting here.

I guess I could be trying to write something. I've thought of a couple of story ideas, so I need to sit down and figure out how I will make them work.

but I'm not. I spent most of today reading Waiter Rant.

*yawn*

I'm going to the gym after work tonight, though.

Stranger to Fiction

Back in college, I used to write a little bit. Like art writing, not nonfiction writing. Mostly idiotic poems, but I did take a playwriting class and a creative writing class as part of my curriculum. So, I did write some short stories.

So, I've been thinking for a while that I should like to take up the quill again and pen some fiction.

This is not a decision a person should make lightly.

I'd LIKE to write a novel, but I am ill-equipped for it in terms of writing skill. So, I want to start on some short stories.

I can't think of any short stories to write!

So, I'm re-reading The Art of Fiction by Ayn Rand to try to jog my creative juices. But I have to say, this is going to be hard work.

I should write a story about the fat people who are checking out the vacant apartment across the street. They seemed to take note of the skinny white dude parading around in his underwear a little bit ago and have since taken to lumbering from room to room without apparent purpose. Wait. They've all taken a seat on some unseen furniture listening to the male talk and watch him gesture laconically about what I can only guess is a border or a window frame.

One of the larger females is up and measuring a doorway. She's going about it all the wrong way.

Oh well. They're interesting characters, I guess, if I want to write about people with low aspirations, simplistic ideas, and limited views of life. Although I might complain that their appearance is uninspired, they do have better windows than I do and a MUCH bigger apartment. I guess they need it, though, since there are four or five of them thudding against the ceiling of the dance studio on the floor below.

I don't really like the idea of these fatties watching me in my underwear. I didn't mind the hot chicks who waved to me, but these are just fat, ugly people who are probably less titilated or inspired by the view than inappropriately amused.

It's official. I hate the new across-the-street neighbors. Why couldn't the hot guy move across the hall so I could get a better view? This is a family of people who make bad decisions.

Can you imagine an entire book of short stories about their lives? It would be a comedy. I might be good at writing comedy, but I would much rather write about adventures. Detective stories, spy stories, stories about really pretty, happy people falling in love with other really happy, people who might happen to belong to the wrong street gang or Veronese family minus suicide plots.

One of the large female fatties seems to be entranced. She's just leaning against the window watching the traffic on the street or watching me watch her.

I seriously want to go over and tell them to stop eating so much food and get some exercise. They're the kind of fat that is grotesque and completely unacceptable. And it's a whole family. Three females and a male, I've counted so far. Even the young female is overweight.

The cute lady upstairs from them is home now and she's cooking supper, I think.

I could write stories about all the people in the building across the street! I'm sure that's totally been done, but I'll bet those stories sucked and didn't have any plot.

TMI

I realize that I blog about poop way more than is polite or appropriate but because this is my blog and I write about the things that cross my mind and you are a masochistic internet lurker, you get to know more about my bowels than even my doctor knows. (That's because he and I really don't talk about them much.)

This morning I ate a bowl of raisen bran. And then, without thinking much about it, I started drinking a cup of coffee.

Now, I have suddenly realized that I've set in motion a chain of events that may threaten life as we know it.

I'm scared.

Hold me.

Not too tightly though.

Fantasy

When I am fed up with the state of things, usually the state of the state, I fantasize about sailing around the world.

Well, not directly around the world, but just moving onto a sailboat and sailing around to different places. Like Tierra del Fuego, Greece, Madagascar, Thailand, and places all over.

I do worry about what I would do about the sun, since I don't like being in the sun much, but I imagine I could just have a sailboat with some kind of awning or cover for me to sit under and still enjoy the breeze.

I also wonder what I would do about hurricanes, because I have zero interest in dying or almost dying.

But I would sleep on a hammock outside when it's nice out and I think that would be very nice.

I read a story in Reader's Digest when I was young about some people whose sailboat was sunk by killer whales. I am sure that almost never happens.

I just sometimes think it would be nice to get away and get out from under all the thing that interfere with enjoying freedom.

But I don't think I could live on a boat for too long. First of all, it's too confining. Second, I don't think I could not work for money. Third, I would get lonely. For as much time as I spend by myself, that might seem weird, but I do like people.

Even still, when I'm in a really bad mood, it always seems like such a nice idea to cut loose with a bunch of good books and a nice breeze to parts unknown. Swimming and fishing and seeing exotic places. Finding places that haven't been touched by tyranny or assholes.

On the Phone

Ring Ring

CSR: Hello, thank you for calling Fresh Direct. How may I help you this evening?

Flibby: Yes, my order was to be delivered between 8 and 10. It's now 10:30 and I'm wondering what's going on.

CSR: Oh! I'm very sorry for that. Let me try to call the driver. One moment please.

CSR presses MUTE on the phone and takes a sip of diet coke. She then completes another square on her Soduko puzzle.

CSR: Sir? I spoke with the driver and he is actually on the way right now. You should have your groceries in five to ten minutes.

Flibby: Great! Thanks!

CSR: No problem, sir. I'm very sorry for the inconvenience.

After waiting another 30 minutes, I just realized what happened.

It Begins Again

Again, I'm in a good mood today. But disaster is stalking me.

I was putting on my shoes and when I pulled my hand up and reached for my other sock, I noticed that my hand was bathed in blood.

Apparently, I nicked the middle finger of my left hand it was leaking blood all over the place. There's a spot on my jeans now.

And so, I had to bandage that up.

Then, as I was leaving my apartment, I slammed my right index finger in the door. It hurt a lot.

But I did remember my iPod, keys, and lunch. And the lunch is in the freezer today. So, I don't know what else can go wrong, but it's probably something like that movie Final Destination.

Good Mood. Bad Day.

6:50 am - Late for the gym
7:10 am - Discover I have "weak hip flexors" and I'm not good at situps or situp-like activities.
8:45 am - Discover that I am out of my favorite socks and almost out of clean underwear.
8:50 am - Late leaving for work
8:53 am - Discover I forgot my iPod
8:54 am - Discover that I've locked myself out of my apartment
9:15 am - Spill Orange Juice all over my shirt
12:30 pm - Discover that I forgot to put my frozen meal in the freezer and see that gravy has flowed all over my other food.

Hopefully, things will start evening out, because I don't think I can take many more of these little mishaps.

MORE Adorable

Do you know who is MORE adorable than Neil Patrick Harris?

Christopher Masterson.

I know he's a crazy Scientologist and all, but just try to look at him and not think about Xenu dropping him into a volcano.

And, ok, returning to the topic of television shows. Check out Veronica Mars. That is an excellent show.

Sex and the City

What is the attraction to this show?

I don't get it.

It's about a bunch of women who run around having lots and lots of sex, but when they aren't fellating the UPS guy or complaining about the way their boyfriends moan, they're fussing and fretting over the biological (HIV tests), emotional (themes of exploitation, abandonment, alienation in relationships), and sociological (see the previous parenthetical and expand it to non-sexual relationships) implications and effects of their actions.

It's like they want to have their cake and eat it, too.

I'm not saying that I've never made bad decisions about my romantic and sexual relationships and that it is impossible for me to relate to the characters in the show. What I'm saying is that they're boring. They're boring because they aren't subtle at all. Their conflicts are really trite and overplayed. And then I think I'm supposed to be moved by the big, important lesson that Carrie Bradshaw spells out for us at the end.

It's like Doogie Howser M.D. with a giant, purple dildo and a shoe fetish.

Great. Now I have an unpleasant image of the adorable Neil Patrick Harris in my head.

Huh?

I treated myself to Chinese carry-out tonight and my fortune cookie said, "You should be able to undertake and accomplish anything."

Should?

What does that mean?

Why should I be able to undertake and accomplish anything?

If I accomplish something, isn't it clear that I undertook it first?

Weird.

I Drank a Beer Last Night

A Heineken to be exact. Have you had one of these? I will say this: it was not offensive.

If you didn't know, I don't really like beer. But I think it's kind of growing on me. The one last night was pretty good anyway.

MTA Announcement

Hello, passengers of the downtown A train

The MTA is sensitive to the digestive complaints of its passengers, but respectfully asks that you avoid passing gas in the crowded train.

Thank you

Why Not?

In a recent post, I discussed some of my thoughts on drug use and admitted that I am very curious about what it's like to use them. Like most people who have a curiosity about "bad" things, there are times when the risks of that thing seem very low and easily surmountable. Such was the case when I wrote that post.

I ended that post by pointing out that I probably would not use drugs because I'm not comfortable with them.

That post invited a few comments on the reasons not to use drugs (specifically pot) which in turn invited response from me about why those reasons may be insufficient to deter me.

When considering whether or not I will try drugs, here are some of the reasons (some of them rather silly) that go through my head:

- I might get fired from my job and then I wouldn't be able to pass a drug test to get a new job.

- The police might see me and think I'm high and take me to jail.

- I like the fact that I haven't ever used drugs. It's kind of like my virginity in my mind. (A vulgar comparison, but still.)

- I don't like the idea of messing with how my brain works. (Even though I do drink alcohol.) I had surgery once and went under general anesthesia and it was very disorienting. I still don't like how that affected me.

- Even though I've met some good people who have used or do use drugs, I have an image in my mind of a drug user that is not at all flattering and I don't want to be that.

- This might oblige me to talk to people I really don't want to talk to. Like at the party I went to, the person with the pot brownies was super obnoxious and I was contented to have him get far away from me.

- People who have taken LSD talk about how they have crazy, random acid flashbacks or something. That is terrifying to me and although I know other drugs do not do that, but that doesn't stop me from irrational speculation along those lines. Actually, just the idea of hallucinating is terrifying in itself, but to detach it from a proximal cause... well, that freaks me out.

- What if the person offering the drugs did something bad to them, like mixing two drugs together? And then I die?

- Genetically speaking, I'm in high risk groups for all kinds of diseases, not the least of which is cancer. Some illicit drugs carry with them increased risks of these diseases, although long term use is probably a critical factor.

So, those are some of the (admittedly exaggerated) things that go through my mind. There are all kinds of other things in addition, but all of these ideas wind up creating an emotional response to illicit drugs that keep me away from them when perhaps my intellectual assessment of the risks is low.

The important thing to do is to revisit that emotional response and identify its causes.

When I sit down to actually consider using drugs, I come to the conclusion that it's not good idea. Even so, that doesn't stop me from being curious about it.

COFFEE!

This is totally weird, but for the last two or three days I have been CRAVING coffee. I've literally been awakened in the middle of the night wanting a cup of coffee.

What's weird about it is that I don't drink coffee. The closest I ever get to it are the sugary, creamy, flavored drinks at Starbucks and I haven't had one of those for at least a couple weeks. But I've been craving coffee.

It's just weird because it's not my usual fare at all and I've never had a craving for it before.

Reefer

I just realized some things about the guy who lives across the street. He smokes pot pretty regularly, he's straight, and he's not attractive but his friends are even uglier. Never mind the last three items because I want to talk about the first.

I've never done illicit drugs. I haven't smoked pot. I've never even gotten high off sniffing markers or whatever. At most, I've only ever gotten drunk.

In highschool, there was this stoner kid who used to color the entire palm of his hand black with one of those giant markers in business class. And then he would sit there with this hand over his mouth and nose through the whole lecture. He never struck me as being particularly bright either before or after.

I went to a part Friday night and someone turned up with what they said were "P brownies." My first thought was that they were made with urine. My second thought, which was not long after the first, I swear, was that they were the kind of brownies my mom threatened to make for the chuch potluck once when the old birds in the congregation made her mad.

Indeed, they were brownies made with pot.

I declined the offer of the brownies.

I guess they're made by cooking up regular brownies and just pouring in a bunch of pot. The old queer who made them said something about there being leaves in them before I wandered off to do something else.

From a medical perspective, marijuana is probably one of the most harmless illicit drugs there is. I'm not a doctor, but from what I've read on the topic, if I were forced to make a choice to snort cocaine or eat a pot brownie, I'd probably go for the brownie.

I wonder if it makes the brownie taste funny. It seems like pot leaves would be dry and bitter to eat.

I am curious about drugs. I wonder what's so special about pot. And I wonder what it would be like to take ritalin or adderall. I wonder about ecstasy and nitrate inhalants, too.

But the reason I've never tried any of those things is mostly because I'm scared of them. I don't like the idea of ingesting something for the purpose of messing up the way my brain works and perceives reality.

I do drink alcohol, which messes with a person's brain, and I find getting very drunk very unpleasant. Getting slightly drunk is nice, though, and I think that knowledge is what fuels my curiosity about drugs.

I mean, for the most part, the drugs listed above are not very harmful or addictive. They're mostly drugs that lots of people use recreationally without apparant lasting effects. It would seem that their health effects could be compared to alcohol.

Except with alcohol, you worry about your liver, which can regenerate, whereas with things like ampetamines you worry about your brain, which cannot regenerate. Folks having psychotic breaks are real buzzkills. Ya know?

There have been periods where I refused to drink alcoholic beverages because of how it makes you drunk.

I'm sure that I am not missing out on any significant life-changing experience by not having ever used drugs, but that does beg the question of "Why not" when the situation presents itself.

I must say that at the moment, I really don't have a good answer to "why not." But I will likely continue to decline any such offers because they still give me the wiggins.

Butch

So, it's football season. And I kinda wanna play football.

I've never played football before. I mean, I know the basic rules and all, but I've never really played a real game before.

But right now I really kind of think I'd like to try.

Isn't that weird?

Another Commercial I Love

Not that I actually want another frenzy of random Googlers showing up on my site to post their insipid "I love it, too!" comments, but I love the Starbucks commercial in which a man comes out of the subway and starts singing a chant/marching song.

I mean, who couldn't love a bunch of people dancing in the street?

I will make today the day (I will make today the day)

Tell success I'm on my way
(Tell success I'm on my way)

There ain't no ounce of doubt in me
That I move the economy

Who the man?
(You the man!)
Who the man?
(You the man!)

Don't think that one weekend night when I don't have plans that I won't be in my apartment trying to learn the choreography.

Child Abuse - Part 3

I'm sure that many of you reading these posts are saddened by the account, but don't be. I'd rather you just learn from it, especially if you are a parent or think you will ever be a parent.

I used to be very angry and upset about what was done to me. For the most part of my adult life, I kind of considered it a secret. These days, I consider it simply a matter of fact. I'm kind of indifferent to it -- in itself.

I'm writing these posts in rapid-succession, without editing, because it is somewhat helpful for me to reprocess my thoughts on the matter although I've thought a lot about it over the past decade or so.

The first post was to document the systematic nature of the abuse in my paternal family. The second post was to describe my personal experience. And this one is to give you my reaction. I'm pointing this out because I am writing these without editing or even spellcheck and the structure or even the point may not be clear.

I want you all to know the nature of my particular situation and give some thought to the matter of child abuse.

Things could have been a lot worse. My mother could have been weak or supportive of my dad's actions. But my mother wasn't. She feels very guilty about letting it go on for as long as it did, but she did eventually do what she could to make it stop. And it stopped.

I think the fact that it wasn't worse makes it a little more nefarious because it makes my experience more likely to be downplayed. I am sure some people think, "Yeah, you were spanked a little hard and maybe too often, but you're ok now. You should let it go. At least you weren't raped or something."

I'm still talking about an outrageous crime here. I'm talking about deliberately hurting one's own children.

When my dad confronted me about being gay, the conversation turned to the nature and foundation of our relationship.

I pointed out that I do not love him. I do feel guilty every time I say it, which I do mostly out of habit, but I did explain that every time I say it to him, I'm lying just to keep the peace for mom's sake. I try to keep it to minimum. I told him that if it were up to me, I wouldn't have anything to do with him. I also told him that I won't forgive him, but I intend to do the only thing I can do to bring him to justice: not deal with him any more than I have to.

I do love and respect my mother. She and I have become good friends as adults.

But I'm pretty much a stranger to my dad.

I love children and I do want to raise a couple or five some day, but my biggest worry is that I won't be able to hold my temper and that I might spank them. I don't think any child should know the overwhelming terror that I felt: that those creatures who are supposed to take care of you might also kill you or at least hurt you.

What strikes me is the lack of a strong emotional response I have about the fact that I've been abused, though. I still hold it against my dad, but I do so dispassionately.

I used to fantasize about dramatic speeches at his or my mom's funerals. At one point, I used to even fantasize about physically hurting him back.

I'm very different from my sister and my cousins now.

Beating a child makes a long-lasting impression on their psychology even as an adult. My cousins display those traits common to my paternal family that I believe have resulted from the systematic physical/verbal/emotional abuse. My sister does as well but to a lesser degree. I show them to an even lesser degree still, but I think I'm more aware of them than my relatives and I make an effort to get a handle on those things.

Beating a child doesn't teach them not to lie. It doesn't teach them not to take things. It doesn't teach them to clean their room. It doesn't teach them anything useful.

Beating a child teaches them to fear and mistrust you. It teaches them that it is acceptable to hurt others when one is displeased. It teaches them that identifying and communicating one's feelings and finding non-violent solutions to one's problems is a wasted effort because a hand or fist or belt is a much more efficient solution.

Child Abuse - Part 2

My sister and I fought a LOT when we were young. We antagonized one another incessantly and screamed at one another during these conflicts. Our fighting was so constant and unpleasant that many people refused to have us at their house at the same time.

Once, my sister and I got into trouble for fighting and were charged with doing the laundry.

She and I both carried armfuls of clothes to put away in my parent's room where there was only a narrow passage between the end of the bed and the wall of shelves and drawers that held their clothes.

I went in first and put away the clothes I had, leaving her to stand and wait for me to get out of the way.

My dad was angry with us and was watching us do everything to make sure we did not fight and did our chores properly.

My sister moved to give way so I could get out of the narrow passage by flopping back onto my parent's bed.

My dad thought I pushed her.

I protested saying I didn't push her.

He said he saw me.

She refused to testify on my behalf.

I was directed to pull down my pants and underwear and lean over my dad's lap while he spanked me with his bare hand.

He has never apoligized for the injustice to this day and I have never forgiven him the offence.

Spankings with his bare hand on my bare bottom were not uncommon. In fact, they got to be so common that they really didn't hurt. Or maybe they hurt, but I learned to dismiss the pain. I would lie there while he beat on my bottom.

When he spanked us it was usually a machine gun pattern of fierce slapping that would go on for several minutes at a time. My endurance for the pain often exceeded his ability to give it because there were times when he would have to change rythm and even tell me to turn the other way so he could use his other hand.

I remember making it a game to see how long I could last. To this day, I can still find that place in my mind to go to when I need to dismiss physical pain.

He would not stop until he had decided I was crying hard enough. At least, I think that was his standard because when I got bored I would sometimes pretend to cry and he wouldn't stop until I really put my heart into my screams. Sometimes if I didn't lean across his knees right and he pushed down on my back too hard, I would have to give up early because I couldn't breathe.

Another time, my sister and I were fighting and she threw something, I don't remember what, and hit me. I chased after her and she ran into her room. When I reached her room, right behind her, my dad was coming down the hall.

He grabbed me by the neck and lifted me up an inch or so off the floor and pinned me against the wall. I could breathe, but I couldn't get free.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size."

I didn't point out that at the time he had a good foot and a half in height and over a hundred pounds on me.

He threw me to the ground in her room and made me apologize. Apparently, he felt that it was time for me to learn to be chivalrous and pay great respect to females.

It was clear to me after that incident that my father wasn't fully hinged.

He would get so angry.

His face is infused with many tiny capillaries near the surface of his skin, a trait I inherited, which, when he would get angry, would flush with blood and turn his face a terrifyingly bright red. He also has clear ice blue eyes and medium blonde hair. The colors of his face when enraged had the effect of warpaint on me as a child.

My sister and I were beaten so frequently and so savagely that we eventually turned to each other for support. It kept getting worse and we truly he was doing it out of sick pleasure. We began to fear that he would wake us up in the night just to beat us.

My sister and I actually started keeping knives in our rooms handily in case things got too crazy and we needed to actually do something. We talked about running away, but we knew that any adults we turned to would just give us back to my parents.

He only grabbed my neck that one time. He only pushed me once or twice. Mostly it was spanking with his bare hand. It was near the end that he spanked me a couple of times with a belt.

It did eventually end. My mother came to her senses and realized that my dad was out of control. I don't know what finally did it. Maybe the belt.

I remember they fought several times about it. I do remember she was threatening to leave him over the abuse.

I'm not sure exactly how long the escalated level of abuse went on. We were spanked since we were small, so it was always an option, but for a while it was really bad. I think it was more than a year maybe two that the violence was over the point where I think the term "abuse" is not only accurate but a fair representation of what was going on. I was somewhere between 10 and 14, I think.

And it then slowed rapidly and stopped.

I don't remember how things changed.

There are points in my childhood that are blocked out by extreme emotion. Things I only remember as stories people tell me happened because I was so angry, scared, or upset.

I do remember crying myself to sleep a lot even if I had not just been beaten. I remember I wet the bed even into adolescence.

Child Abuse - Part 1

My paternal grandfather was the sixth or seventh (I can't remember) generation of a certain line of southern farmers. A few years before the American Revolution they landed in Charleston, South Carolina having crossed the ocean from Ireland. A hundred years before that, they crossed the North Channel from Scotland fleeing religious persecution.

I don't know much about my maternal grandmother's heritage, but I know that she grew up in Iowa.

My grandfather died when I was five and I don't remember much about him. I remember that he didn't seem to talk very much. He was also a dark, intimidating figure. My cousins and I feared getting into trouble with him.

My grandmother, however, played the part of kindly church lady. I believe it was my grandmother, however, who played the part of judge in my father's family even if she left the actual discipline up to my grandfather. To be sure, my gradfather was complicit in the acts, though.

I believe this of the two of them based on my observations of my uncles and aunts. In my father's family, the men are dullards and weak in the face of a woman's whims, wishes, and rages. They're easily manipulated and the women take as much advantage of the situation as their short-sighted shrewish minds can connive.

They are positively, but colorfully, dreadful people. Perhaps another time I'll share some of my stories of them.

Spanking with switches and belts was the common form on punishment for the children in my father's family. Corporal punishment was stock and trade even for minor infractions.

I am not privy to the details of any particular incident, but in the one conversation my father and I have had on the topic, he merely said that it was to excess. The statement was offered to me as an excuse and I was in no mood to hear about it.

My cousins were obliged to go cut their own switches. They were beaten with belts and bare hands, too. I also know that on occasion they were even lashed with the cords of lamps or other home appliances.

Why do people hurt their children?

Presumably to punish the child for misbehavior.

Punishment for children is as different from criminal punishment as night and day. For criminals, the objective is punitive, to mete out justice, to give them what they deserve. For children, the objective is actually educational. The goal is to teach the child why their actions are wrong and concretely associate the misbehavior with negative consequences that might otherwise be beyond their grasp due to their undeveloped conceptual faculties.

More simply put: it is difficult for children to understand property rights or the concept of fraud, so you punish them for taking other people's things or for lying.

It is important that one never, ever be arbitrary in punishing a child. The rules must be consistent and (for maximum effectiveness) should be rational. One should never punish a child simply because one is in a foul mood.

Parenting is not an easy job by any stretch of the imagination.

I am of the mind that teaching a child the consequences of their actions does not require physical violence. It does require that a person be resolute and clear.

I think that people who beat children lack clarity. I also think they are not in good control of their emotions.

Many people who support spanking say things like, "I was spanked and I turned out just fine!" I was spanked and I turned out reasonably well. I would not say "just fine" because I am aware of the struggles I've had and continue to have to teach myself the rational way to deal with the world. I am sure that a person could be beaten as a child and still turn out normal and non-violent, but I think that is merely the result of other fortunate factors and circumstance rather than the result of the abuse they suffered.

I like to be clear that spanking is abuse because it is the violation of the child's body with force with the intent to cause pain. I doubt supporters of spanking would be more pleased if I referred to it as 'torture' although the comparison is apt.

Most of my father's family display common psychological traits when it comes to their interpersonal relationships. They're not very good at identifying or communicating their feelings. They are prone to violence when in a fit of rage, not knowing how to otherwise deal with their anger. Verbal abuse such as calling names or just repeated insults are routine and made even in public. They tend to make small attempts at manipulation, but their efforts are usually no more sophisticated than lying or concealment of their actions. They take pleasure in merely exerting power over one another. The espouse an admiration for familial ties and tradition, but they act more like it is a painful obligation. Children are forever "children" when it comes to their relationships to their parents.

Observing them at family gatherings is like watching a pack of apes in many, many ways.

It seems to me that physical abuse of the type my father weighed upon me was present in all of their lives to varying degree and duration.

Drunk Dial

When I've had a little bit to drink, I get very chatty and a bit bossy. I'm chatty anyway, but when I've had a little bit to drink, it's the kind of chatty that is, well, a little more bossy.

I rarely drink enough to get really drunk. I just don't like to amount of effort it takes to focus through the impairment.

What does this have to do with anything?

Well, a friend of mine invited me out to go dancing tonight. Because I like to tip my bartenders, I don't like places that have a cover charge.

Anyway, we decided to "pre-game" a little at his apartment and he "pre-gamed" a little too much. The bouncers at the club wouldn't let him in because he was too far gone.

So, we went and sat at a diner for a half hour and he decided he just needed to go to bed.

So, I headed back to my apartment. I called pretty much everyone I know.

I didn't call people I believed would be asleep, but I called everyone else.

No one answered.

Except one friend. I got to talk to him for a while and that was nice. I even got to talk to his new boyfriend. That was cool, too.

But now, I'm totally sitting on my sofa, waiting to get sleepy.

Too bad you're not here to talk to me. Cuz I am really in a chatty mood right now.

Bored and PISSED.

I was supposed to go to the aquarium today with a friend, but I forgot that my apartment was due for the pest guy to come by.

The guy is supposed to be here between 9 and 12. It's now after 1 and he still hasn't shown up.

I called the super who said that they're late sometimes. The super even said they might not show up, but instead come by NEXT weekend. WTF?!?!

So, I'm sitting here. Waiting for him.

Can't go to the gym. Can't go to the aquarium. Can't go shopping.

Pissed off, y'all.

Baby Panda Bears Look Like Naked Mole Rats

That is all.

Thank you.

Aaaaawkward!

I'm working from home today, which means that I have the television going while I work. Right now I have a show on called Airline.

Have you seen this?

I don't know if it's the same people every episode, but this time they're following some Southwest Airline employees as they attempt to do their jobs. Naturally, this involves coming into contact with the general public.

I have never had a job that required me to come into contact with lots of regular people all the time. Regular people are everywhere, so I've certainly talked to them, but I've never had to be the person who stands behind a counter or answers a phone and talks to such a great number of regular people as their primary job function. I've never worked fast food or retail and I've certainly never worked for an airline.

Here are some of the problems they encounter:
- A passenger with no neck (seriously sad and strange) misses her flight.
- A passenger has a very strong and offensive odor.
- A passenger has an over-sized carryon and refuses to check the bag. (Her bag appears to be stuffed full of things, but she points out that she has carried the bad every week without trouble. When she manages to get onto the plane, the bag fits in the compartment easily in spite of what the sizing thingie indicates.)
- A passenger is a professional comedian and decides to hassle one of the flight crew who is an amateur comedian by calling him a million times and keeping him from helping the other passengers.
- A passenger wants to fly to Las Vegas, but does not have a ticket for the flight he needs and he's trying to convince four people to volunteer to give up their seats so that he can go. Fortunately, he has a good story: he's flying out to surprise his girlfriend and propose marriage.

And I'm barely halfway through the show.

The challenge the producers face is that most conflicts that one encounters in an airport are rather short-lived, so it's hard to build and sustain tension over the course of a whole show. So, I respect the challenge. Unfortunately, it is not well-met and the show comes off rather slow and awkward.

The material is deliciously fun, though. If it lasts, hopefully they will perfect the formula and the show will take off. (Take off! Get it? Airline. Take off. See? I'm hiliarious and you know it.)

House Soundtrack

The new season of House M.D. started last week.

Has the soundtrack always been this weird? I feel like I've fallen into an angry and/or scared version of one of those "Soundscapes" booths you see at Target.

Oh, Ernest! Don't Let's Talk About the Weather

The weather in New York is turning cooler. I read on Wikipedia that the average highs and lows for September are 76 and 60, respectively.

I love the slightly cooler weather because I can wear more clothes. It's also not such an effort to pick out an outfit in the morning because I'm not filled with the dread of wearing 75 lbs of cloth drenched from my own sweat.

I've even worn a jacket to work the past couple of days! It's great!

The Book of Chronicles

I was talking to my dear friend, Buddhista, yesterday and I was telling her that this year is looking really bright for me. I feel strong and positive about the direction of things in my life right now. This may be the best year of my life so far.

I wish I could say that each year has been better than the last, but that's not true. I've had some reallly bad years. Here's how things have gone since I turned 18.

18 - OK year. Awkward. I was graduating from highschool. I was coming to some realizations about my life and my friends. But I was looking forward to college.

19 - Started college. Met my best friend. Kind of a rough year for us since we were roommates and I was having a rough time trying to figure things out.

20 - BAD year. I went into a deep depression, withdrew from friends, basically wandered around without solid direction to my life. Figured out that I'm gay.

21- Good year. First love came and went. It hurt. A LOT. But I had some good friends around me. Figured more out about how I want to live my life.

22 - Better year. Getting ready to graduate. Came out to more people. Grew more confident and comfortable in my life. Found my first job. Loved it.

23 - AWESOME year. Seriously, best year of my life. Work was going great. I was loving it. No romance, but had good friends. Started running. Found Objectivism. Felt great about life over all.

24 - Another great year. Nothing remarkable, but stayed on track and felt good.

25 - A pretty good year. Job troubles started.

26 - Another OK year. Job troubles continue to grow, but nothing too bad. Attempted a brief romance that didn't work out. First time dating in a couple of years at this point.

27 - Terrible year. I was over my old job, but in denial about how much I hated it. Job troubles continued to escalate. Ended an 11 month relationship that wasn't going anywhere.

28 - Not as emotionally painful as 20, but barren, disappointing, and just disheartening. Life seemed to be trudging along and going no where. So, I quit my job that I was hating and moved to New York. Things started looking up.

I'm 29 now. The upward arc I started in 28 with quitting that horrible job and moving to the city I love continues.

I've retained a little bit of cynicism that I gained during 27 & 28, but that is slowly melting away as I get back on my game.

I'm in better shape now than I think I've ever been. My job is looking up after several really boring months. I do expect to find a new job in early 2007. For my 30th birthday, I want to make a nice trip somewhere and hopefully a few of my close friends will be able to go with me. I'm going to continue training and working out; I'm giving thought to trying to join one of the sports teams here in the city, like soccer, frisbee, or football.

So, anyway, it looks like it's going to be a good year.

Cheers!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

One of my good friends sent me this video in a happy birthday eCard.

Hilarious!

Thank you, Mama Laverne!

Tropical Storm Ernesto Is Ruining My Birthday Weekend!

My boyfriend travels with his job and has been out of town this week. He was supposed to return last night to join me today to kick off the festivities with a spa day. Well, some schmuck on his project didn't complete his work on time -- the other guy actually showed up two DAYS late -- and so the BF has been rushing to finish his work and get back to the city. He should finish by noon today.

Unfortunately, the BF is in Virginia and is seeing Tropical Storm Ernesto right now. Flight cancellations and delays are predicted for DC airports where he is supposed to be this afternoon trying to get back here.

So, no spa day today.

Looking forward, we were supposed to go to the beach tomorrow -- right when the storm hits NYC.

So, no beach day tomorrow.

It's not a complete loss. We're going to do our spa day tomorrow while it's rainining. And on Sunday, the weather is supposed to clear a bit when we're going to see Avenue Q on Broadway and then dinner at a nice restaurant with a view of the city.

So, it won't be a complete loss.

I am disappointed that I took the day off of work to celebrate my birthday and I'm really just going to be cleaning my apartment.

Damn you, Tropical Storm Ernesto!

Happy Birthday to Me!

My birthday is this Sunday.

Get ready!

Hey. How You Doin'?

Hey, y'all!

So, I haven't been blogging much and not for lack of things to blog about, really. I mean, I've been seeing someone special, Trey Givens is putting naked pictures of himself on the internets, I saw Snakes on a Plane (awesome), I saw part of a movie called Leeches!, which -- if you like to look at hot guys -- you might want to watch (but maybe with a margarita or two handy because it's awful). Anyway, the general excitement of my New York life is going on.

I've been busy.

But I'm writing today mostly cuz I have good news about my job, namely, my workload recently tripled over night.

As you know, I haven't been enamored with my job. It's been over five months now and it's been boring, frustrating, limited, and not really what I expected.

It sounds weird to be excited about tons of overtime, but the good thing about my workload going up is that it limits my boredom because now I have lots of new projects to work on. I also get to work with lots of new clients. (Previously, I had been limited to to a single account due to an arrangement with that particular client.)

What's more is that my job role is actually shifting to give me more contact with clients, which is something I love and had expected at the start.

When I told my boss that I was particularly excited about the change in responsibilities because it would give me more exposure to clients and contact with the sales process, he told me that they were working to create some new sales engineering positions for which I would be well-suited.

So! I'm excited about the potential for my job and even if it doesn't work out in the next six months, at least I won't be as bored at it as I have been.

Anyway, that's what's been going on.

I'm busy.

I Don't Care What You Say

I love bad movies.

That's not true. I don't actually love them, but I can't resist them.

Show me a trailer of a surefire bomb starring -- oh, I dunno -- Tara Ried and Christian Slater -- you know what movie I'm talking about -- and I can tell you MONTHS in advance that 1) the movie will most definitely suck and 2) I will see it opening weekend.

I'm like a big, gay moth (technically a butterfly, but let's stay with it for the sake of the metaphor) to their badly acted, haltingly plotted, implausibly staged flame of steaming... More like a big, gay dung beetle (still technically a butterfly) to.. well, you get it.

So, let's look at The Covenant.

If I went to the movie theater right this instant and had the option of seeing the widely lauded and acclaimed Little Miss Sunshine or The Convenant, I would drop $12 to see The Covenant.

I KNOW!

I KNOW!

I. KNOW.

I can't even believe it myself, but it happens all the time. It's like how I can't believe Tara Reid has a job outside of the porn industry (That was rude and unfair. Just because she's generically hot and can't seem to dress herself does not mean that she has sex for money in any way shape or form. My apologies to Miss Tara Reid.) but there it is.

I just needed to share it with you because I'm going to go see The Covenant and I don't want you telling me that I shouldn't go because it is going to be so bad. I am fully aware of how bad it's going to be. But I am still going.

And I don't care what you say.

Where Have I Been?

Well, I'm around. I keep thinking of things I need to blog about, but I always forget about them when I have my blog in front of me.

I just wanted to let you know.

Holy Production Interference, Batman!

Did you watch Project Runway tonight?

I got in late, so I had to watch it on my DVR.

Some thoughts:

- Wow! Kayne sassed Laura!
- Vincent is insane. He's stupid and insane.
- Rockstar designer guy is a snot.
- Good for Michael, although I didn't think his was all that.
- Rockstar designer guy has a bad case of sour grapes.
- THEY KICKED OFF ALLISON!

I can't believe it. Her dress wasn't THAT bad. Especially against Vincent's stupidity. I really think the production kept Vincent because he is so Woody Allen + Qualuuds - Lithium + Amphetamines * bad taste to the millionth power.

Anyway... it's past my bedtime.

Later!

My Heart is OK

But apparently my laptop is trying to kill me.

If it's not one thing, it's another, right?

Oh No He Di'n't!

Did you watch Project Runway last night? I know you did!

Wasn't that so dramatic when Keith got kicked off for cheating?! And isn't it just like him to deny that he used them to any unfair advantage and attempt to erode the fact that he broke the rules.

Did you listen to Tim's pod cast? You totally should. It's full of juicy details.

I didn't like Angela's bolero jacket thingamabob. The whole outfit reminded me of that catsuit Santino made last season in the designer make-over episode.

Team Bonnie really did stink up the joint. I love Nina Garcia and her bitchy "I hate those pants!"

Team Barbie guy was a disappointment. Usually his stuff is cool, but this time it wasn't.

So, anyway, I have it on my DVR if you want to come over and watch it again.

Hot Time Summer in the City

It's supposed to be 100 degrees in Central Park today. They're predicting 101 for tomorrow and perhaps some terrific thunderstorms.

It's summer time, y'all!

Why Did I Bother with Curtains?

If I am at home alone there is a 95% chance that I am either naked or in my underwear. I think clothes are great and I like wearing them, but when I come home from work, the first thing I usually do is take off my clothes. This is especially true in the summer when clothes means being sweaty.

Another truth about me is that I like to be able to see out the window. This means that I do not pull my curtains.

Do the math.

If you go to one of the apartments across the street from my house at the right time of day or night, you might see me in my "leisure."

This evening I got home kind of late and took off my clothes.

Did I mention my horrible sunburn? I'm horribly sunburnt from a trip to the beach this weekend.

Well, I was standing there in my underwear watching the Family Guy and putting aloe on my chest.

Then I strolled to the firdge to get something to drink.

As I walked back, I saw three women pressed to the window of their apartment directly across the street.

I waved to them and they waved back.

Then I turned out the light and hopped into bed.

So, it's official: I'm a pervert.

Rage

I am in an absolutely FOUL mood this morning. I don't even want to attempt to list all the things that have irritated me this morning, so I am going to focus on one that I've been griping about for a few days now.

I hate when these dog owners take their dog out on the sidewalk and then, while the dog is squatting on the curb, walk toward the shop windows allowing the leash to span the width of the sidewalk so that no one can get by without walking in the gutter.

It's bad enough that I have to walk over dog urine and feces. (Although, the feces problem is impressively low since there are scooper laws and most seem to observe them.)

But when I'm trying to walk down the sidewalk but can't pass because there is a leash in the way, it really bothers me. It already bothers me when people don't pay attention to what they're doing, but then they enlist an innocent little dog as an accomplice in their bumbling.

*sigh*

I need to be careful about my blood pressure this morning.

I Am Not Dead

I'm just being very, very quiet.

Things are busy at work and outside of work. I'm pissed off about terrorists and those who support them.

And I haven't been grocery shopping in, like, three weeks.

Celebrity Sighting!

I passed Austin Scarlett on my way to work this morning!

You may wonder how I knew it was him, but I since I work in the Garment District, I think it's obvious.

Also, I won't say how, but I have spoken to Teller of Penn & Teller on the phone. Well, I didn't speak to him nor he to me, but I heard him talking on the phone and I was on the other end of the phone. He's the one who doesn't talk in their act, but he does actually talk. Apparently, he used to teach Latin. How about that?

Worse Today

This is the worst cold I can ever remember having in my whole life.

The constant coughing and sniffing. I have to blow my nose every five minutes. Why my body thinks I can make use of this much moucus is beyond me.

I still don't feel as bad as I did two or three days ago, but I am feeling worse than I did yesterday. As a result, I'm spending most of my day in bed reading and drinking lots of water and resting.

Sooner or later I will have to figure out what to do about food, though. Even if I'm not hungry, my body will need the fuel to continue to fight off these germs.

I hope I'm not in this state for many days longer. My patience is wearing very thin.

Project Runway Season 3

You're watching it, right? RIGHT?!

Maybe It's Allergies?

I went to the gym this morning, still sniffling and coughing with my throat nearly swollen shut and my trainer speculated that perhaps I've developed allergies.

This is entirely possible. I think I'm going to skip over to the Duane Reade and see about trying ome Claritin.

Also, I did three sets of squats this morning at 300 lbs!! WOO!

I'll Say Something to Him Next Time I See Him on My Fire Escape

It's a good thing I was in a rush. Or maybe that wouldn't actually have mattered. But I really think I was going to say something to the guy, a complete stranger, but I was in a rush.

I was heading to 7th Avenue to meet a friend at the 57th St N,Q,R,W station by Carnegie Hall so that we could head up to the Loew's cinemas on Broadway near Lincoln Center. He was late.

Almost everyone in New York is late. It is next to impossible to accurately or consistently plan one's travel times here if you have to depend on anything but instantaneous teleportation. Since most folks use the trains here tardiness is simply the way things are.

Either that or you're sociopathically early, which is rare for most people but afflicts me with some regularity especially when I'm trying to keep my psychosis a secret. Right now, I'm in denial so, I'm blaming my German heritage for my compulsive need to be early. I'm also digressing.

I was walking along when I spotted a man ahead taking pictures, ostensibly of the squatty little apartment buildings that occupy the northwest-most corner of Hell's Kitchen where I live.

He snapped a photo. I saw him check it in the screen of his digital camera as I approached. I was still far enough away when he looked at me that I could look back without turning my head or even diverting my attention from the sidewalk ahead of me.

He brought his camera up and appeared to fuss with the focus.

I shifted my path so that I would pass wide of him and out of the frame. I kept my eyes directed ahead but I watched him in my peripheral vision.

He tracked me with his camera and took a photo.

My head snapped left. I was glaring but he was already reviewing the photo with a small smile on his face.

I got a stride or two past him and watched him bring his camera up to take another picture of the buildings. By then he was facing away from me, but he was close enough that he had to know I was looking directly at him, but he refused to acknowledge me.

I slowed my walk momentarily while I contemplated turning back to ask him about his problem.

On one hand, it's somewhat flattering in a way. On the other hand, it's creepy and I don't it. He didn't ask my permission to take my picture. He just took it.

But I was late, so I kept walking and dug my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed.

"Some dude just took my picture!"

My Broken Heart

Have you seen Heath Ledger lately? He looks like he's been living down by the Port Authority.

Yeah.

I wasn't happy about that, but I averted my eyes and have just been thankful that he doesn't turn up on the sites I read very often.

But now Tom Welling is walking around looking like a Yeti on crack.

It's all just too much. I'm going to cry myself to sleep and hope that Hugh Jackman and David Morse keep their wits and their stylists about them.

Facial Hair

My first boyfriend taught me how to shave my face properly. He taught me how much shaving cream to use, which direction to go with the razor, and how to fix nicks. I was 21 years old.

At the time I was "shaving" every four days because if I didn't it looked as if I had a dirty face -- something my mother actually said around that time. Of course, unlike the girl across the hall who made the same comment, my mom licked her thumb and reached over to attempt to clean my lip.

Yes, laugh it up. Even I think it's funny now that I shave every day.

I started shaving my face every day at the end of last year and it's been prety good.

Even still, I only have a few active follicles on my cheeks. Most of my facial hair grows on the bottom of my chin and on my upper lip.

That said, I have decided to attempt a goatee.

I'll pause while that soaks in.

...

Yeah. A goatee.

I made this decision this weekend after not shaving for two days and noticing that I really don't look like a big, big freak.

Ok. Well, not a COMPLETE freak anyway.

The hair on my lip doesn't connect to the hair on my chin, though. So, I'm predicting that it will turn into some kind of crazy muskateer, Johnny Depp kind of insanity.

We'll see.

I've completely lost my sense of where this was going so I'm just going to bed now.

g'nite!

Road Rage on the Sidewalk

I hate driving in traffic. I always say I hate driving, but that's not true. I just hate traffic.

The same thing is true about pedestrian thoroughfares like sidewalks.

It seems to me that many, if not most, people are completely oblivious to their environment. They stand in doorways for extended conversations. They park their carts in the middle of the aisle while staring blankly at the shelf. They stand at the top of the subway stairs trying to decypher their MTA maps.

These things enfuriate me. Usually I just stop very near to them and stare at them until they move. Sometimes I will say 'excuse me' as I step past. In very close quarters, I will actually lay hands on strangers and guide them out of my path.

Maybe I pay too much attention to what's going on around me. Maybe I'm overly concerned with creating fast, efficient, frictionless paths of transit even if the mode of travel is by foot.

And I know I walk fast. My normal walking speed is above 4.5 miles an hour when I'm by myself. It seems that most people only walk at about three and a half miles per hour, max.

But no matter how I try to find fault in my own thinking or behavior, I just can't suppress my utter contempt for these people who seem to be willfully oblivious to everyone around them. If they're doing it on purpose, they're worthy of more than contempt. If they really are oblivious, I think they should shipped off to the Middle East or some island in the south Pacific where they can bumble around out of my way.

But at most I mutter curses about them. I rarely do anything more than a dirty look.

But this afternoon I did more than that.

I was leaving the movie theater (I saw Superman Returns) and foot traffic was heavy and slow. I was trying to work my way through the crowd when I approached a group of young girls from behind. Suddenly, two of them stopped and because they were walking shoulder to shoulder in a crowd, they caused everyone who was behind them to stumble and stop erratically to try to avoid hitting them.

Then they laughed.

I steamed a little at the juvenile behavior but quickly assessed how I would pass the knot of them and their friends.

I was about three paces behind them when they did it again. And laughed. The knot of people was growing larger and I was getting closer. People were staggering, trying not to hit them.

I got to be only a few feet behind them and they did it again. I saw they were holding hands. I needed no more indication that they were doing this on purpose.

I walked up until I was only about a foot behind the girl on the right. My left foot matched the cadence of her right leg. The girl could not have been more than 5'3", while I stand at 6'2", and I sensed that the widest part of my thigh lined up perfectly with her gluteals. She didn't know I was so close; she was too busy laughing with her friend at the chaos they were causing.

One pace.

I knew they would try it again.

Two paces.

Do it. Dare me to run into you.

She stopped. I didn't.

My leg connected firmly, but without a jolt, to her bottom and she swung wildy counter-clockwise as I passed to her right. She quickly regained her pace, but continued to stagger against her friends in shock.

I looked over my left shoulder and smiled down to her and spoke in a high, cheery voice, "Sorry!" And I shrugged with obviously feigned innocence.

It's not the same as a one way ticket to Islamabad, but I think she got a little of what she deserved.

Star Jones a B!tch?

Star Jones must have done something real bad for Babs to have to say this.

Concerned About the Company

I was invited to attend a birthday party at a bar somewhere next week. It might be fun, I guess. But I looked at the invitation on Evite and I grew worried when I read this:

Jeans are OK but no sneakers please. But of course if you have a fedora you are encouraged to wear it.

I'm kind of worried that Justin Timberlake might be resting under the delusion that he's allowed to talk to me.

Fedora? Seriously?

People, listen to me: Fedoras are faddish. They look weird on most people. They're fine as a quirky accessory, I think, for a particular outfit on a particular type of person. But we should not mistake that to mean that they have been cleared by good taste to qualify as a fashion staple.

And this isn't a fedora party or a "Dress like Indiana Jones" party.

It's a regular party.

When did dress codes get so complicated and oddly specific?

I Have Mean Face (Maybe)

Until recently, no one has ever made a serious attempt to approach me and strike up a conversation in a bar. Actually, until recently, no one has ever made a serious attempt to approach me anywhere.

I see people look at me, but people don't come up and talk to me. I've been told that I look unapproachable, which is a distinct possibility because the face I make when I'm not making a face does have a somewhat stern appearance.

Well, all of that changed last week.

On Wednesday night, I met up with a friend after work for drinks. While I was waiting for him to show up a VERY drunk man apparently in his late 40's wearing a red t-shirt covered by a long-sleeve denim shirt with a button-down collar and plaid shorts came up to the bar and stood next to me. He said hello and asked how I was doing. I returned his greeting and said I was fine and promptly looked away.

I looked away primarily because he was extremely drunk and not very attractive but also because I was completely caught off guard by the fact that he actually spoke to me without having been introduced.

Then! On Friday night, I went out with friends and we went bar hopping. We went to Barrage, Splash, View, and Barracuda. After that, I was hungry, so we went to a diner somewhere before parting company outside the 14th St Subway stop.

Well, I went down into the station and stood against a column waiting for my train to arrive and a guy approached. At first, he stood about six feet away looking at me. I glanced at him, but otherwise paid him no mind but to keep track of him from the corner of my eye.

He was an older Asian gentleman. Fit and smartly dressed. He was attractive in his own way: not my type, but I could see why some would be into him.

"That's a cool shirt."
"Thanks," I said.
"Did you get it here?" he stepped a few feet closer so that he needn't need to call out to me.
"Yes. I got it at H&M somewhere. It's one of my favorites."
"Purple."
"And pink." You have to see it. It really is a cool shirt and it looks really good on me.
"Are you from here?"
"I'm from Georgia, but I live here now. [pause] Where are you from?" Since I wasn't interested in him and I was also alone in a subway station, I was wary about engaging him further.
"LA."

Blah blah blah...

He got on my train and continued to talk to me. Without being very seedy about it, he invited me to go out with him. I declined but thanked him. We continued to chat until his stop and he wrote his cell number on his business card and gave it to me. He told me he was marching in the parade on Sunday with some friends of his and said I should call him. I thanked him and he left.

!!!

I didn't ask him for his number. I gave him every indication I could politely give to indicate that I had no interest in him. But he continued to chat with me.

I was so intrigued by the event that I did call him the next day to thank him and wish him a happy Gay Pride. He asked me out again, but I declined, but he shrugged it off and we chatted a bit more. He told me to watch for him in the parade.

I did see him in the parade; he was marching in the very last group with some cheerleaders.

So, that was a the first time anyone has ever approached me like that before!

Happy Gay Day!

I went to the NYC Gay Pride Parade today. It was fun, but very, very long.

I saw bare breasts, exposed penises, bare butts, leather, lace, motorcycles, roller skates, stilts, jock straps, thongs, men, women, and things in between.

I got free condoms, free lube, free facial moisturizer, free candy, free bracelets, free beads, free pamplets, and free stickers.

I saw lipstick lesbians, drag queens, bull dykes, muscle bears, fat bears, daddies, twinks, jocks, drag kings, priests, go-go dancers, and a senator named Schumer.

I got sprayed by water guns, doused with glitter, rained on, stared at, ignored, overheard, and misunderstood.

It took about 6 hours to get it all done.

Next year, I think I will try to attend the street fair on Saturday and just do the parade on Sunday. I'll make sure that I have plans for Friday night, Saturday night, and for Sunday evening after the parade. Also, I think I'll take the day off on Monday so that I can be worn out and possibly hung over the next day.

It was a fun time, but the lack of direction and complete chaos of it all tried my patience. I'm glad to be in my apartment right now, but kind of wish I were out having drinks with friends instead. Oh well.

This was a good first Gay Day for me in NYC.

Missed Photo Opportunity

I carry a camera with me pretty much everywhere I go. I think that I might see something interesting to photograph at any minute.

Yesterday, I had an awesome opportunity:

I was in the subway heading downtown and there was a guy standing on the platform with his back to me. He was wearing a wifebeater and if it weren't for all of his tattoos he might have been kind of hot in that sweaty, muscular, hairy guy way. Because his back was to me, I could clearly see the tattoos that ran down his triceps: WHITE PRIDE.

Yes, one arm said, "WHITE" and the other said "PRIDE."

I got my camera out and tried to situate myself to surreptitiously snap a photo, but I couldn't get it. His friends kept glancing toward me and eventually he turned to put his back against a column.

So, unfortunately, I couldn't get a photo to show you. All I got was this lousy t-shirt.

Hear Me, Broadway!

I do NOT like theater.

I find live performances to be overpriced and unpleasantly irregular and distant.

I do feel connected to the play just because there are people acting it out in front of me.

I do not appreciate the notion of a "collaborative" art.

I especially do not like musical theater.

I know! This is blasphemy in this town and among the gays. But it's a fact.

I was extremely annoyed when that stupid Rent song was on the radio all the time and everyone wanted to sing it out loud to me.

I went out with some friends from Georgia this weekend and they introduced me to several individuals involved in theater. I had nothing polite or meaningful to contribute to the conversation.

This is not to say that EVERY play is boring to me. It doesn't mean that I will shun every invitation to the theater or even that my attendance would be grudging. There are some shows I'm genuinely interested in seeing.

But, as a rule, I don't like theater.

Thank you.

Just to Prove This Isn't a Medical Blog Now Like Matt Chancellor Said

You know what I always get mixed up? Lewis Carroll, CS Lewis, Sinclair Lewis, and Upton Sinclair.

For your reference, should you be pressed as I was last night in bar:

- Lewis Carroll was a British writer during the late part of the 19th century who wrote Through the Looking Glass, which I've read. I've also heard that he was a child molester, but I don't know if that's true.

- Upton Sinclair was an American writer at the turn of the 20th century and wrote The Jungle, which was intended to be an indictment of industrialization in general, but is largely remembered for just being a disgusting account of people getting ground up in meatpacking factories. I haven't read any of his work.

- Sinclair Lewis was an American naturalist writer in the early part of the 20th century who wrote Babbit and Arrowsmith. Arrowsmith is about a doctor and Babbit is about a boring man in a suburb who sleeps on his porch and tries to cheat on his wife. I've read Babbit, but not Arrowsmith.

- CS Lewis was a British writer in the first half of the 20th century. He wrote the Chronicles of Narnia and attempted some works of more serious philosophical intent like Mere Christianity. I've read The Chronicles as well as Mere Christianity. The first few of the Chronicles are interesting, as I recall, but Mere Christianity is nearly gibberish.

Live Janice Blogging

- I told you they were ugly.

- I told you she did better with the guys then the girls.

- How much did Fiji water pay for that product placement? And who wants to drink what Janice is drinking? Not me.

- If you're trying to be a model, you need to not be a crybaby. Get some speed and some cocaine.

- Theresa Cutie? Is Janice going to pay for a nose job? For real?

- Ok. Full stop. Janice just said, "Getting a nose job is a huge honking decision." There's no laugh track on this show, though, so I couldn't tell if she was joking.

- Oooooo... markers. They're going to write on these people.

- And now dialect training.

- "Put sisters on magazine covers where they belong." Janice is racist. She said it, not me.

- How come I don't DVR the Tyra Banks talk show again?

- There's a certain irony to Janice giving people life coaching.

- OK. She made the hottie get naked. I might pass out.

- Ian decided to be a financial advisor and Janice gets all sour grapes on him. She's such a crazy bitch.

- And now we have an interlude of Janice missing the garbage man. She yells at people for being late, but she is a space-case.

- Homeless people sometimes miss appointments. Who knew?

- I love the helper guy. Janice says, "Is she ok." Help guy shrugs and looks at the ceiling, "She's homeless." True. True.

- Homeless girl seems to be in this for the perks.

- The Fiji water has stickers over the lable now. Did some PA miss it the first time around? Or did Fiji call having realized how damaging this could be for their brand?

- Janice is sensing a fellow bitch? And she's not liking it? Isn't that hypocrisy? In the words of Four Four, "consistency has never been her thing." Seriously!

This show is HILARIOUS.

Specificity

I went to the doctor and the dentist today and both of them required that I fill in my medical history. Each form contained a section with the instructions "Indicate if you have or have had any of the following problems:" This was followed by a list of ailments, diseases, and afflictions. For example:

- headaches
- constipation
- diarhea
- veneral disease
- scarlet fever
- high blood pressure
- diabetes
- angina
- depression
- neck pain

And so on.

So, I checked all the boxes that applied to me as instructed.

Both the doctor and the dentist looked at me alarmed and asked, "You have headaches?"

I was perplexed by their expression and responded, "I don't have a headache now. I have had a headache before and I imagine that I will have one again at some point." I also laughed and pointed out that I was merely answering the question as posed to me. I have had headaches.

They seemed to think that I was indicating that I get headaches regularly or that it is some sort of ongoing affliction.

I also checked the box next to scarlet fever, but they did not act as if that I were walking around with that.

The question is clear and I responded to it as such. But my dentist and my doctor seemed to think I was saying something else.

I wonder what other people mean when they're responding to that question.

ARG!

Why does the US soccer team have to suck so much?

I was watching the US-Czech match just now and I had to leave when Czech scored for the third time.

Why are our guys just standing around waiting for the ball come to them?
Why can't our guys get it together in close quarters?
Where's the pressure?
And who said we were soooo fast this year and the Czechs are old?

*sigh*

We're tons better than we were 10 years ago. I will say that. But this still drives me nuts.

And I'm a person who will yell at the TV. This is why I shouldn't watch sports.

Just Like Home

Jeff Foxworthy is on teevee right now and he just said, "back titties."

For Those of You Gossipin' About Me

I don't think I mentioned that I told Red I don't want to see him any more.

Yeah, he's fun and adorable. We had enthusiastic conversations about The Nanny, Scrubs, and running.

But it turns out it was a lot of flash with little substance.

And he reminded me again why I don't like artsy-type people. Why can't they arrive to places on time? Why can't they call when they say they'll call?

That was a week ago? Two weeks? I dunno. Anyway, you live and learn. Just thought I'd keep y'all posted.

A Dirty Joke

This terrifies me, but at the same time, I can't stop.

I'm Gross

One of the 101 things removed from the human body is a bot fly maggot. Wanna see?

As the Juvenile Male Ages, His Body Begins to Change...

I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner tonight because I love them. That was like two hours ago.

And just now, I went into the bathroom and found a big glob of peanut butter on my face under my left eye beside my nose.

How did it get there? I have no idea.

It's like I'm becoming the Cookie Monster of PB&J. If I spot any blue fur, I will let you know.

Train Crashes into a Busload of Nuns, Puppies, Kittens, and Babies Thus creating a Disaster so Big that the Balance of Good and Evil is Unset and the Earth Spins out of Orbit and Crashes into the Sun: Film at Eleven

"What could Flibby be talking about?" That's what people in caves are asking.

YOU, kind, gentle, cultured readers of good taste, of course watched the premier episodes of The Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency, which is a reality show that shows us highlights from an event that rivals the one described in the headline of this post.

Wasn't that fun when we were all collectively tuned in to see Janice Dickinson utter such gems as, "I have two words for you: OUT!" and, "Africa is my favorite place on the planet!" And didn't you almost blow Spaghetti Oh's out of your nose like me when she told a homeless girl to get a nose job? Or did you miss it because you were still laughing about the fact that she asked a homeless girl in to be a model?

And is it just me or does Janice have terrible taste in women? I mean, some of those guys are unquestionably hot, but pretty much all of those girls (Except that one named Nads or something. Seriously, parents, do not name your children after your favorite depilatory product. Yes, parents of Veet, I'm talking to you, too.) were uggos. 5's at best.

So, how about this: You can come over next time it's on and we can watch it together. That would be awesome.

Doing it Wrong

I think I'm doing it wrong.

Manhattan, I mean. New York. The whole thing. I'm doing it wrong.

First of all, I'm lazy and slow. I get off of work at 6 and usually I come home and that's about it. Ok. I maybe go to the gym. Or to the NYU Objectivists Club. (Don't stalk me.) Or out to dinner sometimes.

Second of all, I'm a morning person. I have fought against coming to this conclusion, but it's true. I LIKE being up at 5:30 in the morning. And that is when I like to get stuff done.

The problem is that no one else likes to get things done at that time.

On the upside, for the past four weeks, I've only been able to sleep 6 - 7 hours a night. It doesn't matter what time I go to bed, how long the day before was, or anything. Instead of my usual 8 hours, I now sleep 6.

This means that I can stay up until Midnight and still wake up in time to watch the news and meet my trainer at the gym at 7 am.

This is actually very good news because New York is the city that never sleeps.

What I need to do is this:
1) Get a day planner, calendar, something.
2) Fill it up.

There are so many people to see! And there are lots of things to do. Like, how come I'm not taking any drawing classes? Photography classes? Language classes? Cooking classes?

Screw television. It's summer now anyway, so there's nothing on.

But I'm missing stuff. I know I am.

There was a gay rugby thing here and I was invited to parties for that. Oh gay rugby players! I'm sorry I missed you!

There was a gay bloggers event or something. I don't actually care about that, but it would have been something to write about, right?

Movies! I love the movies! I could go to the movies every night here and never, ever run out of things to see. Actually, they're playing movies in Rockefeller Center for the next few days. Unfortunately, the weather kind of sucks for that.

Theater. I hate the theater. But there are some things going on now that I'd like to see. Like Wicked. And Avenue Q.

I also need to work out more. For two weeks, I've been a slacker and only worked out twice a week. That is not how we get big and strong. I need to do more ab work, more weights, and more cardio. More, more, more!

Oddly enough, I've actually had a few ideas for fiction I could write. Maybe I could take a workshop or something.

THIS IS NEW YORK!

And I am definitely not taking advantage of it.

It's 9:30. I won't be asleep for another 2.5 hours, yet I'm already ready for bed and actually sitting in bed, too.

There are people I need to see and call.

Amy! I haven't forgotten about you!
Carla! You, too!
Greg! You don't read my blog but I have your number in my cell phone and I do plan on calling you some time!

Oh and don't even get me started on the books I have to read.

Anyway, I'm definitely doing it wrong. Where do the hours go?

Song of the Moment

Again, I've transcribed my own lyrics, so if it sounds funny to you... well, we'll all have a good laugh when you see me singing the wrong words.

"Got My Own Thing" by Liz Phair

I've got my own thing
Feel it, it is strong
As short as people think
But really it is long

I don't have to wait for a miracle
They say I'm pretty as a song
I don't have to save for a rainy day
I know that something comes along, it always comes along

Ooh boy, I'd love to help give enough rope to hang yourself
And watch the silly things you do
Ooh boy, I'd love to help give enough rope to hang yourself
And I hope you're swinging this way, too
Boy, I do

I've got my own thing
Feel it in a room
Everybody change
When I do what I do, Cause I do what I do

I don't have to say what I'm thinking 'cause
Everyone's radio is on and they've heard my latest song
Don't have to stand there with a drink because
They say that we would get along, so let's just get along

Ooh boy, I'd love to help give enough rope to hang yourself
And watch the silly things you do
Ooh boy, I'd love to help give enough rope to hang yourself
And I hope you swing it this way too
Boy, I do

I know you're not like other guys
I don't expect you to normalize
I won't get into what you do
Because I'm bettin, bettin, bettin, bettin, bettin all my money on you

I don't have to wait for a miracle
They say I'm pretty as a song, they've heard my latest song
You don't have to stand there with a drink because
I know that we would get along, so let's just get along

Ooh boy, I'd love to help give enough rope to hang yourself
And watch the silly things you do

Ooh boy, I'd love to help give enough rope to hang yourself
And I hope you're swingin' this way, too

Ooh boy, I'd love to help give enough rope to hang yourself
And watch the silly things you do

Ooh boy, I'd love to help give enough rope to hang yourself
And I hope you're swingin' this way, too
Boy, I do

Pretty girl
There she goes

One of the fun things about this song is that it refers to another song on the same album. This song is a lot about independence and being a spirit free of any feelings that might be construed as codependence because of a longing for a relationship. The line "I don't have to wait for a miracle" refers to the song 'Somebody's Miracle' in which the speaker is looking at men around her and romanticising the fact that they make other women happy and one day maybe she'll have "a miracle," a man to make her happy. I wouldn't say 'Somebody's Miracle' is really filled with neediness, but it is wistful and has a certain fluffy urgency of a young girl who is looking for Prince Charming. By contrast, the speaker in 'Got My Own Thing' is more mature, defiant, and a little more edgy, although the tune and some of the lyrics ("I'm bettin' all my money on you") retain a playful hopefulness that keeps the song from coming off as bitter.

It's a fun song. Check out at your local iTunes store or something.

Riddle me This:

Why does Lindsay Lohan look so sweaty lately?

I realize summer approches, but she's Lindsay Lohan. Or, what? Herbie doesn't have AC?

Oh, Wiki, You Crack Me Up

I use Google as my homepage and I recently decided to let it be customized. One of the features is a "How To" section powered by WikiHow.

It is hilarious!

The topics they show me are insane!

How to Run up a Wall and Flip
How to Blow Smoke Rings
How to Bury Your Burdens
How to Deal With Impossible People
How to Make a Soda Bottle Volcano
How to Stop Laughing when You Laugh at Inappropriate Times
How to Be Social at a Party
How to Adopt a Baby from China
How to Break up With Someone Using Style and Sensitivity
How to Choose a Martial Art
How to Walk Like a Catwalk Model

And the advice, particularly on the emotional issues is full of silly daytime television pop psychology:

How to Get Over a Break Up

We all go through breakups. They can be rough, and they can be amicable; no matter what, no one really wants to go through them. Breakups are handled differently by different people. These steps may not be perfect for everyone, but they can help!

Step 1: Realize what happened and why. You have to make it clear to yourself that this is not all your fault. It takes two people to make a relationship start, and two people to have lead it to the break up.

I can't wait to do a wall flip, though. Will you spot me? Here's how!

Ashamed AND Violated

For two days I've been out of styling wax, so I haven't been able to to finish fixing my hair.

I hope no one has noticed, but I'm sure they did.

Fortunately, I've located a salon just a few blocks from here that sells Bumble & Bumble products. I'm going during lunch to set the world back at ease.

I just realized that since I moved to New York, styling my hair has required more than one product and often a hairdrier, whereas, in Georgia, I used just one and no hairdrier.

I think someone's metrosexuality is rubbing off on me. When I find out who it is, I am going to demand dinner first.

This House is Clean

Ok. My bad mood has passed thanks to some sound advice from my dear friend, Buddhista.

No details are likely to be forthcoming since I'm bored with that already, but I just wanted to give you an update and let you know that I'm allowed to use grown-up scissors again and put away the plastic plates.

I See a Bad Mood A'Risin'

Oooooo... I can sense a really foul mood coming on. Just as there is a thunderstorm a'brewing outside. This does not bode well for some.

Remember how I said I don't necessarily want to date Objectivists for various reasons? I'm swinging back to the thought that only Objectivists will do.

Those two thoughts above are not unrelated.

Anyway, perhaps more on these things at another time. I'm going to go stew a bit.

All Hail the Man Purse!

I am happy to say that I have finally found a man purse that makes me happy.

Life in Manhattan demands 1) lots of walking and 2) general preparation for lots of conditions.

- It may rain at any moment, so you need an umbrella
- Being prompt is, apparently, not a cultural standard here any more than it was in Georgia, so you need a book to read.
- Crazy people are everywhere, so you need a camera.
- It might be very sunny, so you need sunblock.
- You might sweat a little bit, so some extra deodorate wouldn't hurt.
- I carry a flashlight, because that's how I am.
- I also carry pens and a notepad, because, again, that's how I am.
- I carry a subway map.
- I don't like carrying my wallet and keys in my pants because it makes my pants look funny.
- You might get thirsty, so you need a water bottle.
- You might get hungry, so you need snacks. I carry almonds, cashews, or goldfish.
- You need your iPod, because this is New York and everyone has one.

The point is that there are LOTS of helpful things one might carry around with them and the man purse is supremely helpful.

I, personally, have adopted the messenger bag style because I think it isn't very purse-like and I can carry it across my chest without much trouble.

I love the man purse. I actually own two of them, and my sister said she's found a third for me. This will help me match them to my outfits.

Obviously, that's optional.

To Buy or Not to Buy

I collected comic books in middle school. I stopped buying them because they were expensive and the publishers were doing lots of things that pissed me off, e.g. multiple covers, special covers, artists (JIM LEE) who start things but don't stick with it, and boring stories.

Even so, I enjoy comic books. Especially pretty ones.

Well, I went and bought the two compilations of Astonishing X-Men the other day because Joss Whedon writes them and Joss is an excellent story teller. About the art, I'll be brief: it sucks. But the story is interesting.

Anyway, so, now I kind of want to start buying Ultimate X-Men. I need to check out the art, but I've heard that the story is interesting.

Sidebar on Michael Hartney: He's fun, fun, funny. I found his blog a few months ago and I lurk it. He's also smokin' hot. What's up with me and red heads lately? Anyway...

Before I go out and start buying up comic books, I'm really wondering if I'm the kind of guy who buys comic books. I'm not so sure.

1) I'm impatient. I HATE waiting for the next installation of a story.
2) I hate ugly comic books. I have to force myself to tolerate a good story (Astonishing X-Men) with ugly art and I am not very inclined to do so. It will probably be several months before I remember Astonishing X-Men.
3) I have a short memory. Out of sight, out of mind. If I have to wait for the next installation, I will probably forget about it entirely.
4) I'm cheap. Comic books are expensive. I don't know if you knew, but it's true. For 22-ish pages you can expect to spend $2.50, provided there's not some special, foily, hologram, pop-up cover or anything like that.
5) I do not have space for comic books in my apartment. The ones I have are taking up too much space as it is.

So, I'll contemplate this further, but we know what that means: I'll forget I was thinking about it and then I'll suddenly remember while at work and run over to Midtown Comics on my lunch break, spend money I oughtn't, and be tickled for about five seconds until I forget it again.

And Can I Tell You About Something Funny that Happened?

I always tell people that if they don't feel like being bothered by someone, they should just say, "I don't speak English."

Don't bother affecting an accent or anything. Just say, "I don't speak English," and leave it at that.

Well, I was on the subway yesterday and this guy came on and started doing acrobatics in the train and dancing and stuff. The woman next to me turned and smiled at me and said, "It's cool."

I smiled and leaned over to her, "I kind of hope the train stops suddenly just to see what happens."

And she says to me, without an accent, "I don't speak English."

"What?"

"I don't speak English."

Incredulous now, "Oh, you don't?"

"No."

"Well, what do you speak?"

"Espanish" Yeah, now suddenly there's an accent.

"Vale. Espero que el tren se pare."

"ha ha! Nooooo!!!" she says laughing but also shocked.

"hee hee hee... Yeah. Solo un poco."

"He's cool," she says.

"Yep."

Now, she obviously really did speak Spanish. The English she used wasn't complicated and many people can say those phrases at a minimum. But she had no accent and she responded well to what I said.

Shocking.

Things My Family Saw in New York

- The Subway
- Ground Zero at the World Trade Center site
- The FDNY museum
- The NYPD museum
- The South Street Seaport
- The city from the observation deck of the Empire State Building
- The city from the observation deck of Rockefeller Center
- Soho
- Greenwich Village
- Chinatown
- Little Italy
- Nolito
- Murray Hill
- The Financial District
- Wall Street and Trinity Church
- Hell's Kitchen
- Midtown
- Chelsea
- Times Square
- The city from the deck of the Circle Line sight-seeing tour boat
- The Statue of Liberty
- Ellis Island
- Central Park
- 3 boroughs: Queens, Brooklyn, & Manhattan
- Three bridges up close: Brooklyn, Manhattan, Williamsburg
- The Staten Island Ferry (We used the restrooms in the terminal, but didn't ride the boat.)

And a host of homeless people, crazies, hippies, hipsters, suits, and regular, old, New Yorkers.

All in three days of being tourists.

I may post some photos another time.

My sister doesn't like New York. My dad thinks it's neat but wouldn't want to stay here long. My mom loves New York.

My little studio apartment really isn't a great space for four pretty tall adults. And certain members of my family are very fussy and tend to get all primadonna when the group doesn't do exactly what she wants to do.

I think they all had a good time, though. I'm probably happier they're gone than they are.

My Family is Driving Me Crazy

My family is terribly indecisive.

Flibby: Ok! What do you guys want to do next?
Family: I dunno. I don't care. Where ever everyone else wants to go.
Flibby: Ok! Well, we could go to Chinatown or walk around Times Square. We could go eat early and then get something more later on. Is there anything in particular you'd like to see or do while you're here?
Family: I dunno. I don't care. Where ever everyone else wants to go.

Bear in mind that I made an itinerary for my family which outlined major activities and left time for odds-n-ends should something shiny catch their eye and delay us at any point. Shiny things are very common even in the dullest of places for my family.

I've also compiled a list of restaurants and optional activities (including estimated duration, transportation, and location) so that they don't have to try to think of anything on their own. They can just choose.

But my family is indecisive.

I can usually deal with indecisive, because I am a person who is not afraid to make decisions. "Oh, you're unhappy with this? What would you rather do? Oh, you don't know? Well, let me know when you think of something."

Here's the bad part, though: They're also fussy.

And by "they" I really just mean my sister.

Pardon the profanity, but she is someone who can find the shit in ice cream. She's also boorish, cross, and boring. I don't like her. The only reason she was invited into my house is because my mom invited her along on this trip and I tolerate my mother's decisions like that.

So, she complains about everything. "I don't like these pickles." "The subway smells." "That man is crazy."

First of all, if you don't like the damn pickles, don't eat them. Second, it's the subway, what did you expect? Third, he's not wearing any pants and he's talking to God. Thank you for keeping us up on current events in Obviopolis.

Anyway... I'm going nuts. Just one more day, though, and they head back. I probably won't see my sister here again for a long time, if ever. Same with my dad.

Ok. I have to go to bed now before I freak out on them.

I'm Spiderman!

Your results:
You are Spider-Man

Spider-Man 70% Hulk 65% Iron Man 65% Green Lantern 65% Robin 57% The Flash 55% Superman 55% Wonder Woman 50% Supergirl 50% Catwoman 40% Batman 30%

You are intelligent, witty, a bit geeky and have great power and responsibility.

It's a Small West Village

I ate dinner at a great restaurant in the West Village tonight. It's a place call the Blue Ribbon Bakery. It rizz-ox the sizz-ox, yo

I went with a reader who is super-fun.

You will never believe, though. I ran into ANOTHER reader there!

We didn't get to chat because she was with a friend and I was with a friend and I'm always awkward in those weird situations.

Hi, Amy! HUG! (I wasn't sure if hug was right just then, yadda yadda. Call me!)

And anyway, I had a delicious meal with excellent company.

YAY!

Apropros and Still So Wrong

I use Google's personalized homepage and one of the features is a How To section. The topics that turn up there are shockingly wide in range.

How to Delete your Usage History Tracks in Windows
How to Add Color to a Fluorescent Light
How to Make Essential Oils
How to Build a Lamp
How to Make Hanging Earrings
How to Oil Paint
How to Learn Speed Reading
How to Ollie
How to Adopt a Baby from China
How to Create a Packing Tape Sculpture
How to Get over Regrets

I thought, in light of yesterday's musings, it was a little bit appropriate that "How to Know the Difference Between Love, Infatuation and Lust" turned up on my list today.

I didn't expect anything great, but the suggestions they give are so trite that I was gobstoppped.

While there's no clear, fool-proof way to decipher your feelings for someone, there are certain ways to make the distinction between love, lust and infatuation clearer for yourself.

Steps
1. Write down everything that you associate with the person you're feeling strongly about. Example words on your brainstorm list could include love, butterflies, sex, holding hands, annoying snoring, gorgeous, etc.

2. Circle each attribute with a different color such as red for lust, yellow for infatuation, and green for love.

3. See which of the three feelings dominates the page. If one doesn't stand out (like if the distribution seems pretty equal), move on to the following steps for more insight.

4. Read literature and scriptures on the topic. Questions about love are timeless questions that have consumed mankind throughout the ages and are a major theme in many scriptures, tales from mythology, and literature. Read the story of David and Bathsheba from Jewish scriptures, 1st Corinthians from Christian scriptures, the story of Ali and Fatima, Narcissus and Echo, or Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.

5. Ask your friends or, if you find it easier, ask a complete and utter stranger, so that you get an honest opinion and an outsider's point of view. Tell that person how you feel, and ask them if it sounds primarily like love, infatuation, or lust.

6. Watch a movie that relates to your situation like "Cruel Intentions" (which is about lust, and wanting what you can't have), "Down to You" (which is about love and leaving it all down to the other person), "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days" (which is about none of them really but it's about making a mistake and putting it right), "The Phantom of the Opera" (which is about both lust and infatuation) and, finally, "Titanic" (which is about holding on to someone forever until you die - that is love - bittersweet love).

I can kind of understand some young person doing these things, but what boggles me is that some adult sat down and wrote this down for these How To pages. I don't think they were joking either.

Le Sigh: Ruminations on This and That

I have pretty much decided that whatever knocked me on my butt on Sunday and Monday was not food poisoning. It just didn't feel like that and I have a little cold again. It's minor, though, and should be wrapped up in a few days.

Good thing, too. My family is coming into town this weekend.

I don't think my father has ever been to NYC and I'm sure my sister hasn't. It's been years, decades even, since my mother has been through these parts. They're getting excited about the trip and I sort of am as well.

I wish they were staying in a hotel instead of crashing in my studio apartment with me. Fortunately, my sleeper sofa was delivered on Saturday so everyone has a bed to sleep in.

I'm supposed to be cleaning and getting everything ready for them, but I feel kind of lazy about it right now. My apartment isn't cluttered enough to be annoying, so cleaning is not a very pressing need for me.

I will likely undertake to do it all on Saturday before they officially roll into town.

You know that cute guy I told you about? Well, I haven't seen him since the day of our lunch date because he went out of town for family stuff. He'll be back on Wednesday, which is the day my family leaves.

He and I have talked, chatted, text messaged pretty much every day since he left. Stupid things, too.

"How's work?" "I miss you." "Wake up, sleepyhead!" "How's your sister's graduation?" "Hope you're having a good day!"

"Whacha doing?" was the message I received about 30 minutes ago. "Watchin' teevee. You?" I said back.

(I even text message in complete words and sentences with punctuation.)

I've had to clear the messages out of my phone twice already because the memory limit was exceeded.

Fortunately, we're on the same cell network so our messages don't cost anything.

But I am really amazed at how much nothing two people can exchange and really want more of it.

He went book shopping the other day and bought a copy of Atlas Shrugged. He's not ready for it. I'm pleased he recognized how important it is to me and I certainly want him to read it. But I think it is something a person needs to be mentally prepared for.

To really enjoy Atlas Shrugged, you have to be mentally acute. You have to practice clarity and honesty. For lack of a better way to put it, you have to be innocent.

Red is innocent in lots of ways. I think his most charming characteristic is his playful, silly enthusiasm. Sometimes it borders on being "too gay" at a blush, but then he balances it out with an earnestness that endears.

But he's not ready for Atlas Shrugged. He's used to giving in to what other people want and letting other people make decisions. I worry that he's not independent enough to appreciate the book.

These are observations I've made after seeing him three short times and having a few phone calls. Naturally, I'm still extending to him the benefit of the doubt.

I'm wary of dating Objectivists to be honest.

I agree with Objectivism, but my sense of many people who are young in Objectivism is that they're still working on integrating many of the concepts into their lives. Their subconscious doesn't yet have it. As a result, their sense of life is not yet there. I'm still learning a lot about Objectivism and I used to be (perhaps still am to an extent) that sort of person.

There are other things, too. So, it seems to me that I would like to either date a person who has the right sense of life through their own efforts without having studied Objectivism or someone to whom Objectivism is old news and they've settled into practicing virtue without so much bluster.

I'm not willing to mentor someone through Objectivism. I'm not even really willing to actively convert someone to it. Gentle nudges, perhaps, but little more.

Two dates. A few phone calls. A million text messages. It's WAY too early to think too far ahead.

So, I'm really excited about my family leaving and going on another date with Red. We're going to dinner on Wednesday and then we're going to go see X-men 3 on Friday or Saturday or Sunday. And at some point we're going to go on a picnic up in the Cloisters if the weather is nice.

It's hard not to get carried away thinking about it. And then it's hard not to get into a sour mood thinking about how badly all this could go.

Well, I really should do something to clean up around here.

Update: Oh! And before anyone decides to tell me to "relax" and stop thinking about it so much and to just see how things go. I know. I've heard it before. But thinking about stuff is what I do.

It's ALIVE!

I woke up around 3:30 today feeling GREAT. I wasn't sweating or freezing any more and my headache was fading fast.

I just cooked myself some stirfry and I was able to eat it all without any fear of losing it.

I think the storm has passed.

Woohoo!

Dying

I woke up this morning with a pounding headache. I felt like a hangover, but since I haven't been drinking, that seemed rather unlikely. I figured maybe I had stayed in bed too long or that it was a caffeine headache.

I went to brunch in Chinatown and walked around a bit and as the afternoon wore on, I started feeling worse and worse. I came home to nap.

Right now, I am trying to stay sitting upright without an overwhelming need to vomit with mixed results.

I'm thinking I need to call the trainer and tell him I can't make it in the morning. Work is looking iffy right now, especially since I just broke out in a sweat after feeling like I was freezing my butt off all afternoon.

*blech*

We'll see if this is still going on in the morning.

Update: Last night, I started feeling quite a bit better. My appetite returned and the sweating became less severe, but this morning I work up and it's more of the same from yesterday. Chills, then sweating. Headache and "tumultuous" stomach.

*sigh*

I'm going back to bed.

The Fruit Far from the Tree

As I sit here listening to Hank Williams Sr., Patsy Cline, Peggy Lee, Waylon Jennings and the rest, I'm remembering my mother's reaction when I told her that I was listening to a lot of classic country music like this. She was first aghast because she hates it but then surprised because it's the music her father used to love.

He died about five or six years ago and she has conflicted feelings about her relationship with him. His name was Elmer.

Elmer was a crotchety old man. Very few people got along with him and he didn't seem to like anyone. I got along with him fine, mostly I think because I really didn't pay much attention to him or his snarking whereas so many other people would tip-toe around and kow-tow to him. I grew up in Georgia and he lived in Ohio, so I really didn't get to spend much time with him. But when we would visit, people remarked at how well we got along. He would even ask to take me places and leave my cousins behind.

I don't have any particular feelings about the man because I really didn't know him.

I do sometimes muse over our similarities, which are sometimes eerie to our relations. Like with this music, which is by no means my absolute favorite music, but he and I never listened to music together. He could be resolute, bossy, cross, stand-offish, indifferent to others and more than a little rigid. Every now and then I will make some comment and my mom will say, "Alright, Elmer," apparently pointing out that I've behaved like a crotchety old man.

When I do think about our similarities, I sometimes wonder if he really was a man I would admire. If he was so much like me, was he a man of virtue? It's too bad he didn't live long enough for me to find out.

I'm not religious at all, but thinking about him does remind me of the line in that Tracey Lawrence song, "Daddy's in the ground beneath the maple tree. As the Angles sing an old Hank Williams song."

Do You Know What Time It Is?

Because apparently I don't.

Somehow I managed to set my alarm clock ahead an hour, so I am ready to go to work a whole hour ahead of when I need to be.

What makes this incredibly stupid is that before I get moving in the morning, I watch CNN and I did notice that the time was an hour earlier than I thought. But my response was that I must be mistaken -- not in reading my alarm clock but in reading CNN.

I know. Special needs.

Anyway, it's happy Friday and I have a bunch of new projects at work, and because I'm up so early, I will get to work a bit earlier, so this should be a good day.

A Boring Post about Me Taking Pictures

I will spare you having to download these pictures (there are only 5) unless you really want to.

They're just some pictures I took while playing with the settings on my camera.

While looking at these, could you hear the voice of Grover saying, "Near! Far! Near! Far!"

Maybe that's just me.

Stop Saying 'Oops' When You're Doing It on Purpose

Britney Spears is pregnant again with the seed of K Fed.

I think we can all agree at this point that it is not an accident. She really does mean to allow that man to wipe himself all over her.

Excuse me. I just threw up in my mouth.

This is a puzzle to me. I really thought that since he was acting the fool a while back that they were going to split up and she would go back to doing 1,000 crunches a day. And also, that she would stop being seen in public covered in cheeto crumbs, zit cream, drinking a red bull and wearing a muu-muu, but I'm willing to accept a slow transition back to the Britney we all fell in love with.

They're Back (Or, More Accurately, They Haven't Left)

*sigh*

They're still here with the jackhammer.

But look at how clear this photo is. Now consider the fact that this is low light, no flash, and hand held. I did brace the camera against my window frame, though.

Of the cameras I've owned, this is definitely the best. I've already figured out how to control exposure, shutter speed, and even color balance.

Pretty nifty.

This does not make me less anxious to have the jackhammer guys go away.

Things that Go DATADATADATADATADATADATADATA in the Night

I'm showing you this picture for two reasons.

1) I got a new, cool digital camera that lets me do some cool things with focus, depth of field and even shutter speed. I am excited about learning about it. Maybe I'll start posting pictures of NYC for you.

2) What this picture shows is the view immediately outside of my apartment window. That is a man with a shovel and another man with a jackhammer. Two men like these two worked until well after midnight last night. With the jackhammer and the big, loud truck.

What Am I Doing?

No idea. Absolutely not idea.

I've been meeting some new people recently, so I'm trying to be sociable and friendly. But it's not really anything going into detail about.

Oh! You'll never believe...

I was down in Soho this weekend with a couple of my new girlfriends eating a light supper when a man approached me. It turns out it was a distant acquaintence of mine from Athens! Yeah! Athens, Georgia!

He was in one of my classes for a half a second in school and he used to manage one of my favorite restaurants. It was really crazy to see him.

We exchanged numbers, so maybe we'll hang out some time. (It's not like that -- he's totally not my type at all.) It was good to see a familiar face, too.

Anyway, it's just work and carrying on in the big city for me.

The Gayest Movie He Could Make

I went to see Another Gay Movie last night at the Tribeca Film Festival.

This pretty much explains the whole thing:

High school is over and now it's time for anal! That's the gist, and the whole kit-and-caboodle behind this jaw-dropping, screamingly juvenile and gay send-up to summer teen flicks.

There were funny parts in the film, but mostly it was just really vulgar.

But what can you expect from a movie that is intended to be a gay version of Not Another Teen Movie? The director was there and he said that he wanted to make the gayest movie he could possibly make.

The BEST part of the evening, though, was the two hour wait in line with reader Amy Stern and friend. Both ladies were hilarious and fun. I had a great time!

Thanks, Amy!

It's Official: I Exude Homosexuality

This woman at the sammich shop told me today that I look like someone she saw on Queer as Folk.

She tried to tell me who, but I never watch that show, so I didn't really understand what she was trying to explain.

Then again she was black and foreign, so maybe we all look the same to her. Gay + White + American = homogenaity

But this is further evidence that if you meet me and you don't know I'm gay, you might be a little bit retarded.

FLAME ON!

Does This Song Make me Look Gay?

Some gay person asked me what kind of music I listen to and I said that it varies but some of my favorites are Sheryl Crow, Lucinda Williams, Marcy Playground, and Cowboy Mouth.

He listens to Greenday, Jason Mraz, and John Mayer and he said that my taste in music makes him gayer than him.

I just told him someone needed to class up the place, but then it got me to thinking: is my taste in music that gay?

First of all, yes it is. I mean, one of my favorite bands, not listed above, is ABBA.

But I guess the inclusion of two female singers is what he's basing that statement on, though. Sheryl Crow is KIND OF gay, I guess. Lucinda Williams isn't though. She's alt country. C'mon. And Marcy Playground is straight up crazy stoner rock. Cowboy Mouth is rock/country, too.

I just don't think that list is all that gay.

Of course, I think John Mayer just sucks. I don't know who that Mraz fella is, but Greenday doesn't completely suck all the time. They're not a favorite of mine at all, but I don't hate them as much as, say, Creed or Evanescence.

I think it must be the inclusion Sheryl Crow that makes it gay.

Not that it matters. I could totally take him.

Let Me Tell You A Story

3/15 - Cancelled service with Dish Network and had them send the equipment return boxes to my parent's house since they have the equipment.

3/28 - Am alerted by my property manager that strange boxes have arrived at my house.

3/29 - emailed Dishnet Work to alert them of the error.

4/3 - Still no word fromm Dish Network, so I call. They say they recieved my email and the boxes are now on their way to the correct address.

4/7 - Recieve response to my email saying the boxes are on their way.

4/18 - Still no boxes, so I call. Jason says the boxes are on their way to my parent's house as requested.

4/28 1:30 - Still no boxes, so I call. Sierra says the boxes have been delivered to my house. I inform her of the prior two requests and she apologizes and resends shiping lables. She can't send boxes this time for some reason, but suggests that I go to the grocery store and just get some there.

I think I'm going to call back later and speak with a supervisor to see if I can get actual boxes sent.

I Am the Perfect Victim

I am the perfect victim for crime or disaster because I never think anything really bad will happen. I always think people are nice and honest and not up to anything really bad.

Once in highschool some girls said that they were doing a project and needed help from people. They needed people to keep their hand raised, and I agreed to help them and held my hand up all through class. The teacher was at first aggravated but I explained to him that it was for some project and he reluctantly ignored my raised hand for the rest of the period. At the end of class, the girls told me they were just lying to me to see if I would do it.

I don't mind being helpful if I can and why would I think they were just lying for the sake of lying?

Today a guy came to our office and said that he used to own our floor 30 years ago. He wanted to look around to see how it had changed.

Now, I would have escorted him around quite happily.

Fortunately, I'm not in charge of security. Our IT guy met him and said no. He wouldn't even let the guy look around the corner.

I thought that was mean at first, but really, we are dealing with sensitive data and trade secrets all the time. That guy could have been from our competition or something. He might have just been a con man. I have a hard time thinking that's very probable, but that's why I'm the perfect person to scam.

In Which I Realize That I'm Gross

One of my coworkers was talking about eating bugs in Vietnam. He was saying that the grasshoppers taste like potato chips with legs and this his wife also enjoyed the ant eggs. To which I exclaimed, "Oh! I'll bet those ARE good."

I have no idea why I think this exactly, but I do think ant larva probably are good to eat. Maybe because I imagine them being like really coarse grits. And I like grits.

My coworker said that you can also get scorpions in Vietnam along with giant waterbugs.

I'm willing to taste things, but I can't imagine living off of a diet of bugs. What the hell are they doing in Vietnam?

Tell Her You'll Always Be Together

Chris Daughtry on American Idol is a hottie. I didn't notice until he cropped his beard, put on a suit jacket, and started singing "Have You Ever Loved a Woman" to me.

More Evidence that I am a New Yorker for Real

This morning there was a thunderstorm in New York. I don't know if New Yorkers are all that familiar with thunder and lightning because it started when I was walking back from the gym. I saw the flash and then several seconds later there was thunder. Well, the other pedestrians didn't seem to notice the flash of lightning, but when the thunder happened, I heard some girls squeal and several people around me gasp, "Oh god!"

Anway, that's not what I wanted to tell you about. I wanted to tell you about how I have almost mastered the subway trains near my apartment.

Three lines stop at Columbus Circle: orange, red, and blue. The orange line has the B, the D, the F, and the V trains. The red is the 1, the 2, and the 3 trains. The blue is the A, the C, and the E trains. I'm only saying that to prove that I know which trains come to my house.

Anyway, because of the storm, I decided to take the train to work instead of walking. Usually, I take a red train for two stops.

Well, this morning, I was a little bit late leaving and I noticed a train on one of the other downtown-bound rails, so I rushed down. Well, I couldn't see what kind it was and I was just hoping it was a blue and not an orange because orange does not take me to work. Turns out it was orange, but as luck would have it, there was a blue stopped across the platform AND it was an express.

Express is good if you need to cover a lot of distance quickly because it skips stops. I don't usually take express trains because I am not sure where the express stops are. Well, today, I confidently jumped aboard the express A knowing that my house and my work stop are both express stops, so instead of waiting two stops on the very crowded red train, I just rode one stop on a roomy, albeit muggy and smelly A train this morning and I was five minutes early for work!

It was awesome.

Plus, I'm very snappily dressed this morning in a blue cashmere sweater and khaki suit.

If Ever There Were a Time to Pray, This Is It

I just realized that I am dressed like Ricky Martin*. On one hand, I am kind of terrified that people can see me. And on the other hand, I'm kind of terrified that people will see me and think I'm Ricky Martin.

Hm. Maybe I AM Ricky Martin.

Hm. I wish I were Bonnie Raitt instead.

*sigh*

My work is so boring right now.

* Please note, that simply because I am wearing clothes like him does not mean that I am Mexican** like him.

** I know. Cringe or laugh. Those are your options. Or start a comment war. Whatever.

Walking a Half Marathon

Today, I took a walking tour of outdoor sculpture in Manhattan.

While I was in California a couple of weeks ago (Has it been that long? Time flies!) my friends gave me a gift of Dianne Durante's Forgotten Delights: The Producers and today I decided that I would go check these sculptures out. 1) It's a cheap, interesting thing to get me out of my apartment and 2) it will help me learn to find my way around the city.

I really just started out without actually looking at the distance it spans. It begins up on 120th St. and it ends in Battery City Park. If you were to walk that straight, it's just 9 miles, but the tour took me back and forth across Central Park three or four times as I worked my way down the island. After that THEN I walked the five and a half miles back to my apartment.

Yeah, that's a bit more than a half marathon and it took me four times as long, but it feels the same. Hopefully, I won't lose any toenails.

I'll post pictures and a full summary of my tour another time.

Perhaps I'm Mistaken...

I think they may have recast Ash's voice on Pokemon...

I Wish I Liked...

Beer. I don't really like beer. I always TRY to drink beer, but I mostly don't like it. I can drink Coronas with a lime, though. As long as it's really cold. I used to be able to stomach Killian's oddly enough. Haven't tried that in a while, so maybe I'll give it a shot sometime when people ask me out for beers.

I also wish I liked Mexican food. Don't get me wrong on this one, though. I don't hate Mexican food -- except the kind you have to put together yourself. If there's anything that pisses me off in a restaurant it's being served food with "some assembly required." There's always something on the Mexican restaurant menu that I am willing to eat, but I don't do so with zeal.

But I wish I liked sushi most. It seems like SUCH a good idea. Rice? I like that. Avocado? I like that. Seafood? I like that. But I don't like sushi. And it's a food that posh people like myself seem to like. But I just don't like it.

A couple of my coworkers went with me to California and they asked if I wanted to eat sushi. My obnoxious habit of answering a question precisely and then qualifying the answer kicked in. "No, I don't like sushi, but I love Japanese food." And, of course, every time they would mention sushi, I would say, "No." I wasn't doing it to be funny. I don't like sushi, but I do like Japanese food. Teriyake, stir fry, fried rice, fish, rice, etc. But they kept referring to Japanese food in general as sushi and I kept correcting them because it was dissonant. And now it's a funny joke.

Sushi is one kind of food, like ice cream or pasta. But you don't refer to Italian food as pasta. Although, I would wager that many people do think Italian food is just pasta.

Unfortunately, I don't like Mexican food, beer, or sushi. I used to not like Chinese food, but I've found several dishes of Chinese food that I enjoy. So, who knows? Maybe I will like sushi one day... in addition to other Japanese food.

What on earth was the point of this post again? Never mind.

Rainy Day

Today is a rainy, dreary day in New York. I really like the rain, so it's not awful in my mind, but the tempurature is in the mid-50's so, it's a little too cool to really enjoy. But that just means that it's a nice day to lie in bed and read a book.

Personally, I haven't slept well for the past couple of nights and I really welcome this opportunity to get a little extra sleep.

On the other hand, I was stuck in my apartment all day yesterday waiting on UPS and I may get out of here out of pure defiance.

In other news, my new dresser and bench arrived yesterday and this morning my new bed and desk chair got here. The only major piece of furniture that I'm waiting for now is my sofa, which probably won't be here until May.

*yawn*

Later!

Shocking New York Thing #2

No, it's not the weather. This is New York. Please. We have skyscrapers. Weather. Whatever.

No. The shocking thing to me is how many people smoke.

Smokers. Everywhere.

This is 2006 and I am surprised that anyone anywhere smokes. But especially in New York.

I have known for almost 30 years now that smoking is bad for you. As a small child, I convinced my own mother to stop smoking because it is such a distasteful habit.

Here in New York, where people cross the street in front of speeding moving vans, where people sometimes run across dead homeless people on the sidewalk, where that one guy in the mid-90's shot some kids on the subway... they're smoking.

It's ridiculous.

Make New Friends, but Keep the Old. One is Silver and the Other is Gold

I learned that song at Girl Scout Camp.

I'm in New York now and I have just one friend here, really. My friend, the blogless Fourth Axiom, is someone I met during the process of interviewing and moving up here.

To some people, such a drastic change like this without a support network would be very scary. To me, it's not scary so much as it is frustrating. Sometimes I want a change of pace. I'm used to having a few friends, two or three, that I can call on to go out or go to dinner or just watch tv.

Of course, I still have those friends, but they're far away. I call and IM them, but that really doesn't meet the need.

What I'm getting at is this: Who wants to be my friend?

Farting Cartoon

I'm watching Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex Gig 2 right now on Cartoon Network and someone has layered a sound track of fart sounds on top of the show.

It is very annoying.

Shocking New York Thing #1

So, I love New York, but this is really taking some adjustment for me. The first thing that really, actually SHOCKED me about New York is this:

People actually give money to beggars.

I'm not kidding. I was on a train a while back and this woman came into our car with a sign saying how her husband left her and she has no job and all that. Then, she made herself cry and then proceeded to deliver a monologue of her woes and asked everyone for money.

About a half a dozen people in the car stood up and gave her DOLLARS. Not change, but dollars. I'm not even kidding, she made almost $10 on my car alone.

Then, last week, I was in San Francisco with some New Yorkers and this obnoxious woman in a wheel chair came onto our train in the airport and asked for money and BOTH of them gave her some dollars. She made $4.50 off of our car.

I can't believe this.

I regard beggars with open disdain. It's not that I'm uncharitable, it's just that I hate beggars. I don't mind the people who play songs or rap for me as much, but I don't give them money either.

Although, I was in the village earlier today and I heard a group of people singing "Why do I fall in love" and they sounded really great and I was tempted to go find them and give them a dollar. I didn't of course, but I thought about it.

But why in the name of all that is good in this holy land of mine are people giving money to beggars? This kills me.

I Can't Believe This (Live Project Runway Blogging)

Santino's collection kicked so much ass.

Hands down he's the winner of this finale competition.

I hate him so much, but his collection was... WOW.

Update 1: So wrong. I can't believe they cut Santino. His was the best. It was completely uncharacteristic of what he has done all season.

Update 2: Chloe is too Falcon Crest and Daniel's collection was bland. These shows always make the wrong decisions.

Moving Targets, Moving Insanity

It's just under three weeks until I start work in New York, and I can't think about anything else. I guess that's legitimate since I am moving over 800 miles away and I don't have a place to live. Everything just happened so fast!

So, next Saturday, I'm flying up to look at apartments and flying back in on Sunday. Then I'm flying back up, probably on the 12th. I'm trying to find time to go to the Georgia Aquarium and dinner with a few of my friends. And of course I have to go see the Peacock's.

I have to find a property management company to rent out my house. I have to get my house cleaned up and in order to rent it out. They have to find people to rent my house. I have to pack up my whole freakin' house. I have to find a way to move everything (at least the stuff I intend to bring with me) up there.

I started packing up some things and taking stuff down from the wall and I'm struck by two things: 1) I have a lot of junk and 2) my house looks crazy when it's empty.

I have to sell my car!

I am sure there are a million other things that I'm forgetting.

Oh! And to get an apartment in NYC, I have to bring with me: two years of tax statements, a pay stub, a letter of employment, and bank statements. I don't know why the Federal B. I. won't just release my file to them; it would be easier.

I find that I'm actually less worried about the big things like selling my car and renting my house, though. Those are actually fairly simple items. What nags at me are the little things. I have to find a new gym. I have to get a new cell phone. I have to tell everyone my new cell phone number. Will I get cable? What about the internet? Where will I go grocery shopping? Where will my mom sleep when she comes to visit? These are all easy enough things, I know, but they're what I keep thinking about.

Really, I'm just so excited about all this. I know I'll work it all out as needed, but thinking about it is unavoidable. So, I'm good for nothing right now. I just want to think about New York and talk about New York and just go to New York.

Yehaw!

Flibby Will be Out of Town

I'm headed off to the ATL to get on an aeroplane to NYC here in less than two hours. I will be gone all weekend long, but you can expect to have some kind of update on the whole interview thing and my trip perhaps late Tuesday or sometime on Wednesday.

Woohoo!

A Word on Usability

Um. If you are building a website that has a mirror site in another language, just go ahead and put the links over to the mirror site in the language of the mirror site.

For instance, if you're linking from an English site to the Spanish version, write "Espanol" instead of "Spanish." Sure, most Spanish speaking people may recognize the English name of thier language, but why make it more difficult.

Also, native speakers of other languages, say Korean, may not readily recognize that "Korean" is the same thing as "베트남어." I'm just saying they might not.

Give it some thought, K?

Bored Insane

I'm at my parents' house this weekend. They don't do much other than watch TV and sleep.

The most entertaining thing is watching them try to use the internet. Last night, I introduced my mom to the tabbed browsing wonders of FireFox. She said, "We don't use this thing enough to do it properly."

And after I showed them the glory that is Google maps, they still insisted on getting out a PAPER atlas to plan their anniversary vacation.

Sometimes, I think I was adopted.

Things I Find Out After Everyone Else

Lionel Richie is black.

I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that.

But no one told me.

Also, Nicole Richie is adopted. (She is white.)

(Not that there's anything wrong with that either.)

Not Good Advertising

Picture it:

Black screen. Words fade in and out:

"50,000 people a day get STD's..."
"... that can cause burning, itching..."
"... And the unexpected pain..."
"... of never being able..."
"... to have a baby."

Then a happy couple appears on the screen. They are walking and one walks on one side of a chain link fence while the other person goes on the other side. These words appear:

"... Other than abstinence..."
"... there is only one way..."
"... to protect yourself."

The couple entwines their fingers together through the fence.

"Use a condom every time."

The couple kisses... through the chain link fence.

The music fades and the narrator says, "Trojan: The pleasure you want. Protection you trust."

Now, I don't know about y'all but while I might trust a chain link fence to protect, say puppies, I really don't trust it to protect me against STDs. What concerns me more is the association of a chain link fence with sex. I don't think that sounds very pleasureable.

Maybe they could do something other than a chain link fence. Like maybe plexi-glass. Like the kind in prison.

I mean, when I think of prison, I think of sex. Kinda. Don't you?

Crashing...

I didn't go back to sleep after I woke up last night until AFTER my alarm clock went off. I was watching the news when it went off and I hit the snooze button and suddenly, I snoozed. For 9 minutes... and then again... and then again...

So, I got a total of three and a half to four hours worth of sleep last night and I'm totally crashing now.

Just want to ... take... a ... little... nappy... nap...

One More Thing about Hairs

I hate having nose hair but pulling them out makes me cry sometimes.

More Information About My Body that No One Requested

Since I've well-established that sometimes I blog about things that people don't really care about regarding my biology (eg. urine, feces, etc.) I thought I would let you in on something else.

I grow hair on my ears. Like, on the lobe. I get these long, crazy hairs.

How weird is that?

My dad has hair growing out of his ears, which I think is to be expected because he is old.

I pull these hairs out because I really don't need anything more drawing attention to my ears, but I can tell you the temptation to put beads on them is really quite fierce. (If ever I do, you can rest assured that I will post pictures.)

And if I may chase a tangent briefly, I really have a strained relationship with my body hair. And by "body hair" I mean all the hair on my body excluding that atop my head.

First of all, I never had to shave more than once a week until midway through college. Even today, when I don't shave, I really just look like my face is dirty.

I don't have any chest hair except for two random hairs that pop up now and then. I pull those out, too.

So, I have spotty facial hair, and two chest hairs, and random ear hairs.

That's all I have to say about that.

The New Hotness

I'm a Chevrolet Corvette!

You're a classic - powerful, athletic, and competitive. You're all about winning the race and getting the job done. While you have a practical everyday side, you get wild when anyone pushes your pedal. You hate to lose, but you hardly ever do.

Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.

Found via those yahoos over at SBD.

Get Your Hot, Steaming Truth!

Which Website are You?

This webquiz found courtesy of the Ice Scribe.

Nueva York, Where Am I?

How on earth have I been lulled into such a state of misery and unconsciousness?

This weekend I came across this old post in which I say that "I made up my mind a couple of weeks ago that my primary goal is to move to New York in the next 18 months."

Obviously, that wasn't a very meaningful resolution because I completely forgot about it and I now have less than two months to fulfill it.

Even still, the recent events with me narrowly missing a six-figure income and dropping out of college have acted as shakabuku.

Debi: You know what you need?
Marty: What?
Debi: Shakabuku.
Marty: You wanna tell me what that means?
Debi: It's a swift, spiritual kick to the head that alters your reality forever.
Marty: Oh, that'd be good. I think.

But somehow I've spent the last 16ish months just moping around here. First it was hating my job and not finding one and not knowing what I would rather do because this job sucked so much that I didn't want to do anything and then starting back to school and all that and then the boss quitting and... Well, time really flies! Even when you're not having fun.

I definitely need to pick up the pace and get moving on getting to New York. It's a land of riches and wonderment where I can meet wonderful people and do wonderful things and make lots of money and set up my base of operations for global domination. (No, I'm not one of those remote island types.) I've always wanted to live there and there is no good reason I can't.

Well, the reason I have for not moving right this instant is my j-o-b. I need to make sure I'm employed when I move because being homeless in NYC is not the romantic life of skyscrapers and Starbucks of which I dream and aspire.

So, if you have a job for a smart, determined, mostly friendly business person with a little technical know-how in NYC let me know!

I'm SO Over Christmas

I cannot believe I put up this so many lights. It really didn't seem like this much when I did it, but it is taking FOR EVER to get them down.

I'm so over this.

Update: I counted 13 strings of lights on the tree this year. They're finally down and my furniture arrangement can return to normal. Whew!

It's Raining Men

Not really. That's just what it sounds like on my roof.

Looks like some pretty nasty weather out there right now. Tornado watch until 10 tonight.

Impatient

There are so many things I'm looking forward to right now. I can't really list them out because all of them are highly contingent on not only my own actions but the actions of others. Even so, I am anticipating many good things for the coming year.

Mystery made, I want all of you to behave yourselves carefully so as to not upset my plans. Otherwise, I will be very cross.

Requirements for Hosting Christmas in Flibby's Family

I have been trying to get my family to come to my house for Christmas since I bought the place about 30 months ago. The following list comprises the list of excuses and complaints my mother has posed to me. They also occur in the order in which they were received.

- You must have television and not just a television box hooked up to a VCR or DVD player. It has to have reception on several channels.

- You must have beds for people to sleep in. For the record, I've always had a bed for most of them to sleep in and I offered to sleep on the couch so they would all have actual beds, but that wasn't good enough. Further, they don't have enough beds for everyone when I go there to visit, so I don't know what's up with the double standard.

- You HAVE to decorate for the holidays. Not just a little, either. You have to have lots and lots of lights and they have to be both indoors and outdoors. Multi-colored lights are prefered, but not required.

- You must have a non-white shower curtain and rug for the bathroom or mother will complain about it being too "sterile." Never mind the fact that no one wants a bathroom that looks infected.

- You must have food they like. If you don't know what food they like, tough. You'd better go upgrade your mind reader software because they won't tell you, but they will be UPSET if you don't have what they want.

- You MUST have an intinerary of activities planned. Forget that Christmas has never had an itinerary before, but if they're going to drive four hours to come to your house, you'd better have something better than a ton of food, presents, television, decorations, and beds to sustain them.

Suffice it to say, I have met their demands and they are coming up on Saturday for the holiday. Now, I just have to make sure everything is clean and in order for their arrival, so I'm taking the day off on Friday to make sure it's all ready to go.

And, you know what? It's going to be an AWESOME Christmas. It will be more comfortable and action-packed than any other Christmas we've had. I just hope everyone is on their best behavior. Not that it wouldn't be hilarious for them to be acting the fool, but as the host, that causes me a small bit of irritation to have to clean up blood on a holiday.

I Disagree

Face Recognition

I do NOT look like Jason Biggs.

Wintry Mix is Coming!

Run away! Run away!

Have You Ever Noticed...

that girl seals always wear pink bows on their heads?

I wonder if there's an evolutionary explanation for that.

Productivity Weekend

Y'all, I totally rocked out this weekend. I got so much stuff done, it's crazy. I:

- Cleaned my entire house.
- Which includes my office, which was a disaster from not having filed anything since, like, March.
- Painted my foyer.
- Hosted a dinner party.
- Wrapped all the Christmas Presents.
- Finished putting up all of the Christmas decorations.
- Which includes finishing up the lights outside.
- Had 1/2 cord of firewood delivered, which I helped stack in the garage.
- Read the David Kelley essay "A Question of Sanction."

Dude, it was awesome.

I don't know what I'm going to do this next weekend to top that, but I've already picked out the paint for my guest bathroom and there's that blasted stained glass window project I have yet to complete. Plus, I need to plants shrubs and do some homework. And I need to plan the menu for Christmas.

I'm starting a list... you better stand back!

On Television

Nicole won America's Next Top Model. Tyra Banks and her gaggle of jiggly-puffs and whatnot are clearly insane.

Nicole is pretty, don't get me wrong, but she's not all that. Kyle was hotter than her. Kim was more exotic and versatile. Lisa was more dynamic. Nik was more professional and more competent. Jayla was even more interesting to look at.

Nicole just looks like the most generic teen magazine model you could imagine.

I was not impressed at all. It came down to Nik and Nicole and Nicole won. Whatever. So wrong.

But then the premiere episodes of Project Runway were on, too. (I'm very tired. I stayed up way late last night watching these shows.)

I love Diana Eng's direction and concepts. She's inexperienced, though. At first, I thought she would have problems with time constraints when it comes to the challenges because she likes to plan things out so much, but on the first challenge, The Clothes Off Your Back, she did well and her design was surprisingly fluid and fresh. Still, if she's not careful, she'll get bitten by that, just like how Daniel F. will get hurt by trying to be so meticulous. Also, Diana needs to be careful with her attempts to integrate non-standard technology into her clothing. Her first design submission was awesome, but the magnets failed. Watch out!

Daniel F., you need to bring your stupidity down a notch. I hate you. But your designs are so sleek and elegant! You also need to watch the clock, but I can't argue with that kind of craftmanship.

Santino! I love the fire! Generally, your work is relatively awesome -- relative to the rest of the fashion world. It's not really my cup of tea because I have much different taste and an appreciation for the purpose clothes serve, but I think you might actually win.

Andrae is going to be our drama. Santino was laughing at him during the judging and I was, too. Andrae might get kicked off, though, because that dress he made sucked completely.

Zulema is also drama. Zulema is not good enough to justify all that drama. Hilarious!

Anyway, I have stuff to do. Just wanted to keep you posted on TV.

Imagine My Surprise

On my walk down to Starbucks this morning, my friend and I saw a truck for BeavEx.

We spent the rest of our jaunt trying to figure out which building had a beaver infestation.

Imagine our surprise and disappointment when we got back and looked the company up on the internet. I understand how homing pigeons might be associated with courier services, but I am skeptical of the connection between beavers and deliveries.

Some fun facts about beavers:

- Beavers may grow to be as large a house a live for up to 6 years eating nothing but cheetos.

- Beavers eat mostly trees, though, and when they do, they spew wood chips all over the place, making a horrible mess.

- Since Beavers cannot live on trees and cheetos alone, they balance their diet with children.

- Beavers have been trained as Al Qaeda operatives with mixed results. Apparently, upon detonating their bomb vests to destroy a dam, several beavers will rush over to repair the damage, which keeps property damage to a minimum.

- Beavers are more than a little pretentious.

- Many beavers are nudists.

- Unsurprisingly, Matthew McConaughey has several beaver friends; beavers have good weed and they also have an advantage when it comes to playing bongos due to their large, flat tails.

- In late 2005, beavers were blamed for causing Paris Hilton's boyfriend to wreck her car. Lindsay Lohan has no such excuse.

- Beavers are communists and once teamed up with the Sandanistas in Nicaragua to cause mayhem there. Beavers + rainFOREST = Mayhem. Trust me.

- Beavers were granted to right to vote in 1938.

Update: Beavers are Canadian.

Southern Expressions You Need

For some reason we were talking about Southern expressions the other day and I compiled this short list of ones that came to mind:

So crowded you can't cuss a cat without getting fur in your mouth.
Really crowded.

Busier than a one-armed paper hanger.
Really busy.

Slicker than snot on a doorknob.
Really slippery or really tricky.

Colder than a witch's tit in a brass brassier on the shady side of an igloo.
(Often shortened) Really cold.

Meaner than a striped snake.
Really mean.

As serious as a heart attack. Also As serious as cancer.
Really serious.

A gully-washer
A heavy rain.

So stupid that you couldn't pour water out of a boot if the directions were written on the heel.
Really stupid.

Two shakes of a dogs tail
A short amount of time.

A month of Sundays
A long period of time.

As sharp as a sack full of wet mice
Not very smart at all.

Better than a sharp stick in the eye.
Not the worst thing in the world.

Bless her/his heart
May be used as an expression of genuine sympathy or appreciation of something cute, but generally used prior to saying something mean.

For example, "Bless her heart, but she didn't have to leave the house like that." Or "Bless his heart, if you put his brain on the head of a pin, it'd roll around like a BB on a six-lane highway."

As ugly as a can of mashed ass.
Quite unpleasant in appearance.

As nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
Really anxious.

Actin' like you ain't got no mama.
Misbehaving shamelessly.

About How I Came to Work Naked

I just do not have it together this week with regard to bringing everything I need with me to the gym and work.

Yesterday, I forgot my towel, so after I showered, I had to slough as much water off of my skin as I could with my hand and then just get dressed wet.

Today, I forgot all of my underclothing. I don't have a t-shirt and I don't have underwear. I have shirt and pants and socks and shoes, but no underclothes.

I feel naked.

It's cold out and all of these cool drafts are hitting parts of my body that aren't supposed to experience drafts...like my belly. Get your mind out of the gutter.

Still. I hope tomorrow I remember all these vital things before I leave the house.

In Which We Play Doctor

Sometimes I share too much.

I am a person who isn't disgusted by diseases and surgery. There are a few things associated with disease that make me want to puke, but generally, I am of strong fortitude and I haven't the good sense to know when it it appropriate to talk about these things.

Well, this morning in the break room, I was chugging OJ. Between gulps I was explaining to one of my coworkers that I think I am a little dehydrated since I ran out of things to drink at my house (Yes, I know about the magic thing over the sing that makes water.) and so I've only had fluids while at the office. Even though I drink a lot of water at work, it's not enough.

Of course, they wanted to know why I thought I was dehydrated.

Well, the reason is because my urine has been smelly and more yellow than usual. Not smelly like I ate asparagus or anything, but just smelly urine smell. The smell, I guess, is a little more worrisome to me than the color, but I'm not a doctor. I've also not had to urinate as much as usual. The other day, I think I only peed twice. In the whole day!

I've also been exercising more and not eating and drinking enough. The most likely cause, since nothing else regarding my health seems to have changed, is that I'm not getting enough fluids.

Not getting enough fluids, in my untrained opinion, is bad bad bad. You have to get enough to drink to have good skin and to fight diseases and to just generally keep your body running like it should.

So, I'm prescribing myself lots of fluids and no alcohol for the next few days.... to get rid of the smelly, darker urine.

And, it may surprise you, is not a topic my coworkers either care about or wish to dwell on at any length.

And yet, here you are reading about it on my blog. Funny, huh?

Happy Chrismahannukwanzikah!

So, I'm slowly getting all of my decorations up for the holiday. I'm planning on having a couple of dinner parties and my family has finally agreed to allow me to host Christmas this year. I'm stoked.

I bought like five CD's of Christmas music. I have two christmas trees (1 9' tree for the living room, 3' one for someplace else, and a 2' tree that now sits on the corner of my desk here at work.) and lots of garland. I also got the ornaments from my mom and brought them up this weekend. So, it's gonna be cool.

BUT! I have to tell you about the thing I love most: the timer that controls my outdoor lights.

This is a genius invention.

My lights come on at 6:30 and they go off at midnight without me messing with them at all!

I'm totally tempted to get some for the lights indoors, but I also fear that I might become addicted. I could put all my lights on timers so that I don't have to bother any more with flipping switches! How great would that be!?!

So, I'm excited. I am just not excited about having to take all this stuff back down again. I'll cross that bridge when I get there... in a month or so.

Holiday Party Conflict

I was going to have a holiday party this year, but it's really turning into something really, really difficult.

All of my Saturdays from now until Christmas are scheduled out with other parties.

Ok. I'm slow child at play. I just thought of a brilliant idea: New Year's Party!

Now, I need to make sure that I get invitations out soon before folks make plans.

Mark your calendars!

Update: Ok. Invitations sent. I've invited 51 people. If 51 people show up and bring a significant other, there will be WAY too many people in my house. Actually, 51 people by themselves is WAY too many people in my house. Obviously, I expect some people have other plans and will decline, but I am a little bit freaked at how not good I planned that.

On the upside, preparing for this will require some real creativity, which is always good fun.

Worst case scenario: I cancel my party.
Best case scenario: The right number of people (whatever that is) show up at my house.

I had no idea I was friendly with so many people.

Update: I am so smart in spite of being so incredibly stupid in wildly destructive spurts as documented herein. I changed my invitation so that it says that my party is tentative so I can see how many people are interested.

This is the best way because then I can see what this looks like and THEN plan a party if it is even possible!

And I think I was able to change it before anyone, but for maybe two (you know who you are) of my would-be guests even saw it!

Genius plan!

On Running for Two-ish Hours

Most people think that anything more than 100 yards is why God invented cars, but if you decide to pay not heed to this tribal wisdom, there are some things you should know, especially if you're going to run for more than about an hour at a stretch.

1) Protect your nipples. I know. I could have started my list with something less likely to inflame your lusts, but it is for that very reason that I feel the need to warn you of this. The regular, plain, white, cotton undershirts I run in tend to rub my nipples raw. It is not uncommon to see people who run full marathons with bloody splotches on the front of their shirts because of the wear. Consider band-aids or shirts of a smoother texture, or just do like me and suffer sore nipples.

2) Protect your knees and ankles. Do not be a "stomper!" When I am out for a run, I often have to clear my throat when approaching others from behind, that's how quiet I am. If you can hear a steady "thud thud thud" as you trot along, you're going to wind up in pain after 2 hours for sure. I'm not saying that having a nice, easy stride won't still give you some aches and pains, but stomping is both annoying and hurtful.

3) Use the restroom in advance. I'm sorry I have to talk about this, but I strongly recommend that you find a way to inspire a bowel movement BEFORE doing a long distance run. The rythmic motion of running is well known to induce bowel movements for you and unless you want to stop during your race or just poo your pants, make sure you're empty in advance. (Hey! That kind of rhymes!) No, I'm serious. Watch a Marathon sometime and I promise you will notice that some have not heeded my advice and have allowed their dignity to suffer at the expense of the race.

4) Do a race where the crowd is rowdy. Atlanta is not that place. It's much more fun and inspiring when the crowd is into the race and cheering for you. My favorite thing is to give kids five when I run by. The Country Music Marathon in Nashville is an awesome event with a great crowd. I have not been impressed by the crowd in any of the three Atlanta races I've run. New Orleans also wasn't very lively.

5) Eat something. I'm not saying that you lack integrity or anything, but if you don't eat something before the race and then eat something after the race, you just might turn to violence after the race. You could turn on your own children. Fortunately, in your weakened state, you don't pose much of a threat and you're certainly not going to chase anyone down.

6) Drink something. This should go without saying. Don't be a dumbass like Pheidippides.

7) Walk it off. Stretch, too. I know you won't feel like it, but walk around a bit. Stretch. Your feet and legs will thank you. If you can, find someone to give your legs a massage.

I'm sure there are some other things I could say, but that's all I have right now.

Happy running!

Record Breaking and Working Holidays

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Well, first the easy-to-write good news: I beat the two hour mark on my half marathon this morning! Yay! My running buddy and I came in around 1 hour 57, which is five or six minute faster than our previous best. So, I'm pretty proud of that.

The temperature was perfect this morning. We started out in the upper 40's, which sounds bad, but if you're running, it's not. It was the low 60's when we finished, so it was perfect. And unlike last year, there was no rain. The only complaint I have, if you could complain about anything on such a beautiful day, is that the sun was too bright. My eyeballs do not like staring right into our solar system's own little ball of fusion. They're nuts like that.

There were tons of super-cute guys in the race. I ran with one of them for a good eight miles before I realized I had left my running buddy WAY behind me and had to stop. No, I didn't get the digits. He and I only got to the point where we realized we were checking either out before I had to slow down. *sigh*

At this point, I've gone on about the race longer than I had intended when I started, so I'll stop by saying that I was surprised about our starting pace: my running buddy is generally a good pace-setter, but this morning we were cooking along at about a 8:20 mile for the first four miles. Then, she eased up. I kept trucking, of course, because I haven't good sense about these things and I don't pay close enough attention when there's a hot guy trotting along in front of me in tight shorts that perfectly accentuate his... wait. Um.

I forgot what I was saying.

Anyway, I'm at the office now more or less working.

I'll put in my eight hours as usual.

Contrary to the impression you may have about this, my working today is actually a good thing. Due to the meandering plans that plague most of my family gatherings when anyone other than my mom or myself attempts to plan, we're doing Thanksgiving tomorrow.

I managed to arrange with my boss to basically swap the holiday. So, I'm taking tomorrow off instead of today without having to use any of my time off.

If she had not allowed me to do this, there's a good chance I wouldn't have visited with my family today because that would mean that I would have had to drive four hours immediately after my race, eat dinner with them, and hop back in the car and drive back four hours so that I could be here tomorrow.

(I am trying not to use any more time off than I need right now because if I can't keep my job once I start school, the remaining time off I have saved up with turn into dollars.)

So, anyway, I'll probably get lots more done without meetings or phone calls to interrupt me. (Actually, in the past 20 minutes I've already been lots more productive.) And I'll get to spend more time with my family.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Tomorrow's Schedule

5:30 am - Wake up
6 am - Meet friends
7 am - Start half marathon
<9 am - Finish half marathon
12pm - Arrive at office and work, work, work
8pm - Drive 4 hours to south Georgia or just go home and do the driving on Friday

We'll see.

Cute Starbucks Guy

There is a new barista guy at Starbucks now and he's pretty cute. I think he might have been throwing a little game my way, too.

My pocketbook can't really handle it, but I might have to hang out there more often.

This Weekend

Things I want to get done this weekend:

- Begin putting up Christmas decorations
- Watch Harry Potter
- Do the laundry
- Do some work at the office (in progress now)
- Clean up the house a bit
- Homework?
- Catch up on sleep

So, we'll see.

I just ran 10 miles at a smidge over a 9 minute mile pace and I'm a little loopy right now. We'll see how things turn out.

ANTM: Tyra Banks is Out of her Mind

Ok. Did you watch America's Next Top Model tonight?

Are you not just shocked? SHOCKED!?

I will admit that Lisa is not my favorite person. Actually, I hate her. I think she's obnoxious. But you know what? She puts it out there. She is all BAM! BAM! BAM! She's the Emril Lagossi (spelling?) of America's Next Top Model. She knows how to work it. She pushes hard. She isn't that cute on video but she took some crazy good photos.

Meanwhile, Nicole looks like just another Michelle Trachtenberg or Summer Glau but minus their dynamism.

And Jayla. What the hell? Can't she smile? Pout? Lick her lips? SOMETHING with her mouth? Every photo I've seen of her has her and her ginormous eyes and ears (I really shouldn't talk) looking like the love child of a cupie-doll and one of those aliens that are always probing people.

And Nik. Beyonce called and she said that you should 1) find your own look and 2) if you're going to rip someone's look don't take the one from 3 years ago.

Bre. Love you.

Kim, you're hot but you really have to bring it up a notch if you think you're going to win.

In my opinion, Jayla should have been cut tonight, not Lisa.

Lisa pretty much dominated most of the previous photo competitions. And this week's stupid papparazzi theme was totally lame. I think Tyra Banks is overestimating the fame that comes with being "America's Next Top Model."

Of course, I was shocked when they cut Kyle who was super-duper hot. Yeah, maybe Kyle was a little too Maxim-magazine, but still. So hot.

Seriously, the ANTM judges have lost their mind. I know it's not Nigel or Twiggy making these stupid decisions, so it has to be Tyra, Miss Jay, and the guest person each week who do these things.

Insane.

Completely. In. Sane.

Dinner Party - Buffet Style

Sorry, no pictures from tonight's dinner party. It was rockin', though.

Wish you could have made it. There was plenty of food.

I have lots of leftovers, actually, so just stop on by.

Uncharacteristic

I'm having a dinner party Friday night and I am uncharacteristically unprepared at this point.

1) The guestlist has swollen to about five guests above what I was originally planning. This isn't a bad thing at all, but it's throwing me off of my game here.

2) Is it Wednesday already?

I do not have a menu planned, let alone have I done any shopping.

It's a special challenge here because it's actually planned around a television show, so I can't do anything SUPER complicated. Really, it should be buffet-style, but I've never done that before for an actual meal, so it's somewhat worrisome to me.

Also, I have a mixed crowd. Mixed meaning there are vegetarians coming.

Fortunately, some people are bringing some food and drink, but of course I don't trust them, so I will be making way more food than can be reasonably consumed at this event.

I was talking to a friend of a similar mentality and we agree that this is definitely good stress to have.

It's going to be great but how I get to "great" from here is still a bit mysterious.

I will try to remember to let you all know how it turns out.

Online Quiz Day!

You're an Expert Kisser

You're a kissing pro, but it's all about quality and not quantity You've perfected your kissing technique and can knock anyone's socks off And you're adaptable, giving each partner what they crave When it comes down to it, your kisses are truly unforgettable

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to obedience and warmth. In love, you feel the most alive when your partner is patient and never willing to give up on you. You'd like to your lover to think you are stylish and alluring. You would be forced to break up with someone who was insecure and in constant need of reassurance. Your ideal relationship is open. Both of you can talk about everything... no secrets. Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment. You think of marriage pessimistically. You don't think happy marriages exist anymore. In this moment, you think of love as commitment. Love only works when both people are totally devoted.

Your Kissing Purity Score: 31% Pure

You're not one to kiss and tell... But word is, you kiss pretty well.

How You Are In Love

You fall in love quickly and easily. And very often. You tend to take more than give in relationships. You tend to get very attached when you're with someone. You want to see your love all the time. You love your partner unconditionally and don't try to make them change. You are fickle and tend to fall out of love easily. You bounce from romance to romance.

You scored as Geek/Nerd. Haha! ok. go computer geeks! Geek/Nerd 60% Loner 53% Prep 47% Hot 46% Jock 27% Emo Kid 20% Stoner 13% "Ghetto" 13% Punk 13% Goth 7% What Highschool Clique Do You Belong To? created with QuizFarm.com

Your Seduction Style: Au Natural

You rank up there with your seduction skills, though you might not know it. That's because you're a natural at seduction. You don't realize your power! The root of your natural seduction power: your innocence and optimism. You're the type of person who happily plays around and creates a unique little world. Little do you know that your personal paradise is so appealing that it sucks people in. You find joy in everything - so is it any surprise that people find joy in you? You bring back the inner child in everyone you meet with your sincere and spontaneous ways. Your childlike (but not childish) behavior also inspires others to care for you. As a result, those who you befriend and date tend to be incredibly loyal to you.

You Are a Sarariiman!

Or "salaryman." Whatever. Treadmill off, treadmill on. Most of the sleep you get is on Tokyo's extensive subway system, since you are putting in 14 hour days. You're a workaholic who works hard for no overtime. And vacations? Forget about it. You spend most of your trip hunting around for gifts to bring back all of your coworkers.

You Passed the US Citizenship Test

Congratulations - you got 9 out of 10 correct!

You're a Depressed Drunk

You know that distinct taste of tears and vodka real well.

Your Pimp Name Is...

Maestro Love

You Are Scary

You even scare scary people sometimes!

Your Hair Should Be Pink

Hyper, insane, and a boatload of fun. You're a traveling party that everyone loves to follow.

Your Career Type: Enterprising

You are engertic, ambitious, and sociable. Your talents lie in politics, leading people, and selling things or ideas. You would make an excellent: Auctioneer - Bank President - Camp Director City Manager - Judge - Lawyer Recreation Leader - Real Estate Agent - Sales Person School Principal - Travel Agent - TV Newscaster The worst career options for your are investigative careers, like mathematician or architect.

Your Blog Should Be Green

Your blog is smart and thoughtful - not a lot of fluff. You enjoy a good discussion, especially if it involves picking apart ideas. However, you tend to get easily annoyed by any thoughtless comments in your blog.

Your Daddy Is Pedro Martinez

What You Call Him: Pops Why You Love Him: He takes you to church

Gummy Bears

You may be smooshie and taste unnatural, but you're so darn cute.

Your Brain's Pattern

Structured and organized, you have a knack for thinking clearly. You are very logical - and you don't let your thoughts get polluted with emotions. And while your thoughts are pretty serious, they're anything from boring. It's minds like yours that have built the great cities of the world!

Slow and Steady

Your friends see you as painstaking and fussy. They see you as very cautious, extremely careful, a slow and steady plodder. It'd really surprise them if you ever did something impulsively or on the spur of the moment. They expect you to examine everything carefully from every angle and then usually decide against it.

You are

You Are Somewhat Machiavellian

You're not going to mow over everyone to get ahead... But you're also powerful enough to make things happen for yourself. You understand how the world works, even when it's an ugly place. You just don't get ugly yourself - unless you have to!

You Are Likely A Forth Born

At your darkest moments, you feel angry. At work and school, you do best when your analyzing. When you love someone, you tend to be very giving. In friendship, you don't take the initiative in reaching out. Your ideal jobs are: factory jobs, comedy, and dentistry. You will leave your mark on the world with your own personal philosophy.

Your 1920's Name is:

Gerhard Rosevelt

Your Inner Child Is Happy

You see life as simple, and simple is a very good thing. You're cheerful and upbeat, taking everything as it comes. And you decide not to worry, even when things look bad. You figure there's just so many great things to look forward to.

In a Past Life...

You Were: An Obese Alchemist. Where You Lived: Mexico. How You Died: Buried alive.

Your Animal Personality

Your Power Animal: Eagle Animal You Were in a Past Life: Whale You are active, a challenger, and optimistic. Hard-working, you are always working towards a set goal.

Your Monster Profile

Insane Gaze You Feast On: Snow Cones You Lurk Around In: The Backseats of Cars You Especially Like to Torment: Priests

Your Outrageous Name is:

Craven Morehead

Your French Name is:

Chase Lavallee

How You Life Your Life

You have a good sense of self control and hate to show weakness. You tend to avoid confrontation and stay away from sticky situations. You tend to have one best friend you hang with, as opposed to many aquaintences. You tend to dream big, but you worry that your dreams aren't attainable.

On Average, You Would Sell Out For

$1,035,891

Your Sexy Brazilian Name is:

Joao Santoro

You Should Learn French

C'est super! You appreciate the finer things in life... wine, art, cheese, love affairs. You are definitely a Parisian at heart. You just need your tongue to catch up...

Your Blogging Type is Pensive and Philosophical

You blog like no one else is reading... You tend to use your blog to explore ideas - often in long winded prose. Easy going and flexible, you tend to befriend other bloggers easily. But if they disagree with once too much, you'll pull them from your blogroll!

Your Irish Name Is...

Fachnan O'Donovan

You Are Changing Leaves

Pretty, but soon dead.

Your Hawaiian Name is:

Kahoku Kai

Your Observation Skills Get A B-

Your senses are pretty sharp (okay, most of the time) And it takes something big to distract you!

Your Mood Ring is Yellow

Imaginative Wondering Thoughts Peaceful

You Passed 8th Grade Math

Congratulations, you got 10/10 correct!

Your Japanese Name Is...

Seiichi Gojo

Your Hidden Talent

You have the power to persuade and influence others. You're the type of person who can turn a whole room around. The potential for great leadership is there, as long as you don't abuse it. Always remember, you have a lot more power over people than you might think!

You are Agonistic

You're not sure if God exists, and you don't care. For you, there's no true way to figure out the divine. You rather focus on what you can control - your own life. And you tend to resent when others "sell" religion to you.

Your Ideal Relationship is Marriage

You've dated enough to know what you want. And that's marriage - with the right person. You're serious about settling down some time soon. Even if you haven't met the person you want to get hitched to!

Cheese Pizza

Traditional and comforting. You focus on living a quality life. You're not easily impressed with novelty. Yet, you easily impress others.

You Are a Strawberry Daiquiri

You're a fun, playful drinker who loves to party. You may get totally wasted, but you're always a happy drunk!

You Are 27 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

Your Haloween Costume Should Be

Candy Corn

You Are Chinese Food

Exotic yet ordinary. People think they've had enough of you, but they're back for more in an hour.

Your Musical Tastes Match: Jennifer Garner

See her whole playlist here (iTunes required)

You Are a Glam Rocker!

You put the "show" in rock show with your larger than life self. No doubt, you are all about making good music... But what really gets you going is having an over the top show. Glitter, costumes, and wild hair are your thing - with some rock thrown in!

What Your Underwear Says About You

When you're bad, you're very bad. And when you're good, you're still trouble! Your idea job: gigolo. Or naked cowboy.

You Are

An Evil Pumpkin Face You would make a good pumpkin bomb.

Your IQ Is 115

Your Logical Intelligence is Below Average Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius Your Mathematical Intelligence is Above Average Your General Knowledge is Exceptional

Your Superhero Profile

Your Superhero Name is The Bat Child Your Superpower is Telekinesis Your Weakness is 80s Music Your Weapon is Your Silver Amplifier Your Mode of Transportation is Pogo Stick

You Are 40% Weird

Normal enough to know that you're weird... But too damn weird to do anything about it!

Your Fortune Is

War does not determine who is right, war determine who is left.

Your Band Name is:

The Puffy Sadists

You Should Get a PhD in Liberal Arts (like political science, literature, or philosophy)

You're a great thinker and a true philosopher. You'd make a talented professor or writer.

The Cure Shares Your Taste in Music

See their whole playlist here (iTunes required)

Your Summer Ride is a Beetle Convertible

Fun, funky, and a little bit euro. You love your summers to be full of style and sun!

You Are the Very Gay Winnie the Pooh!

Come on, he doesn't wear pants! And he's a little too obsessed with Christopher Robin

You Are a Rottweiler Puppy

Powerful, smart, and protective. You're eager to growl at anyone you hate - but you're a big sweetheart inside.

You Are Best Described By...

Composition with Red, Blue, Yellow By Piet Mondrian

Your Passion is Gray

Your sexual attitude is best described as apathetic. Often joking that you're asexual, you can go months without getting any. For you, great sex does not make or break a relationship. If it happens, it's just the icing on the cake.

Your Element Is Earth

You excel at planning and strategizing. You could be a champ at chess or Survivor. Well grounded, you are able to be realistic and rationalize. On the inside, you have a hard core. It's tough to phase you. You are super productive, and you are able to think anything through. Focused and super charged, your instincts are a good guide for your next step.

Your Summer Anthem is Holiday by Green Day Hear the sound of the falling rain Coming down like an Armageddon flame (Hey!) The shame The ones who died without a name Dude, you're harshing everyone's summer mellow.

You Are A Weeping Willow Tree

You are a dreamer, and you're into almost any kind of escapism. Restless and capricious, you love to travel to exotic places. You are easily influenced by others, as long as they don't pressure you. You tend to suffer in love until you find that one loyal, steadfast partner. An empathetic friend, you love to make others smile and laugh.

You are 12% Sketchy

You Are "Dizzy and Giddy"

Rules for Trick-or-Treaters

I think the little kids dressed up in costumes are so cute and funny.

So, I have my porch light on and my bags of candy ready to go. But I have to say that of the 8 children who have shown up so far, only one was wearing a costume.

6 asian kids of about the age 13 showed up and called me a racist when I refused to give them candy.

One mother was outraged when I gave her daughter who was dressed as a princess candy but not her son who frankly said he wasn't dressed as anything.

Sorry, folks, this year I'm not giving candy to people who just show up. I require costumery as payment for my candy.

Update: It's official: I only had 8 kids come to my door and only one was wearing a costume. There's a lot of candy going to the office with me this morning!

SHOCKING!

Oh!

And did you watch America's Next Top Model last night? Can you believe they dropped Kyle and not that mouth-breather Nicole?

Kyle is sssssssmmmmmmmoking hot. I mean, I'm gay and I'd totally ask her out. Also, she's like 19 feet tall. I think she's part Amazon princess. (Although, that one girl, Nik is it? might be pretending like she's an Amazon with all the working out she does.)

Nicole is such a child and her look is bland to me. I'm not saying she's oogly. She just look like every other teen model you've ever seen in your whole life. And she's just not trying very hard to step it up.

I will admit that Kyle didn't seem to be trying super-hard, but she won the last two competitions with ease. I don't know how you can go from top to bottom in one week. And did I mention that she's incredibly hot?

HOT.

So, I'm personally scandalized right now. I can't believe Tyra did that.

Why Do These Guys Spit into the Toilet?

I've noticed that several of the men in my office spit into the urinal or toilet before urinating.

I know this because I can hear it hit the water and the sound tells me that it is a liquid and it is not very dense and it is falling from a height greater than that of waist-level. It seems that they're just pushing some bubbly saliva to the front of their mouth and letting it fall into the toilet.

One of the males has done this for years, but I recently noticed that a couple of other men are doing it, too.

I don't understand why. If you know, please tell me.

The Triumph of Reason

Flibby: I'd like a large Sprite and a large water.

*Pause of Medium Duration*

McDonald's Drive-thru Attendant: You can only get a small water.

Flibby: You can't put water into a large cup?

*Pause of Medium Duration*

McDonald's Drive-thru Attendant: Yes. Drive up to the next window.

How Will I Fix My Hairs?

Well, a friend and I joined a gym this morning and worked out.

I can't reach the top of my head any more. I can touch my ears but only if I put my head on the table next to my hand.

Love the burn!

One More Thing...

A reader also remarked that he couldn't believe I paid $13 for a pair of underwear. He seemed to think that for $13 you should get at least six pairs. (On the bright side, these bikinis I bought came in a pack of three for $7, which might explain why they suck.)

But yes, I have paid more than $13 for underwear several times.

On a few occassions, I've spent more than $25 on a single pair of underwear.

Yes, this is outrageous.
Yes, I would do it again.
Yes, this is luxury.
Yes, this is the good life.

Sign me and my fancy (under) pants for more!

In All My Glory

In response to my underwear post, Ice Scribe sent me a link to this size chart for men's briefs.

The problem is that I am 6'2", 175lbs, and I have a 32" waist, so I'm not on that chart either. Also, extra large underwear would be completely inappropriate for me.

Actually, I went to buy a dress shirt from Ralph Lauren a while back and they told me I would have to buy my dress shirts custom-made if I wanted them to fit perfectly.

I am reminded of this quote from Francis Bacon:

There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion.

So, I'm going to claim that I'm excellent instead of being that guy with ill-fitting clothes.

Under where? A Review of Men's Underwear.

Maybe I should start a category about "Too much information" in which I talk about things that might also be categorized with Jim's comments about shaving his balls.

But, I need to tell you about underwear today. Men's underwear because that's what I know.

When I was young, I wore the standard-issue white briefs. Nothing fancy. I always hated how they had a fly though. I do not use the fly on my underwear at all and it always seemed unnecessary to me. I really didn't think much of these underwear at the time... that is until I got into highschool and saw that most of the boys in the lockerroom were wearing boxers.

So, I wanted boxers. This, for my hormonally charged body, was a thrill ride to be sure. I don't think I actually resorted to wearing my bookbag in front and low, but I don't think it would have been remiss.

But I noticed something: the waistband on both my briefs and my boxers were of tihs scratchy elastic stuff and after wearing them all day, I would have marks on my skin from them. Not fun.

I tried buying boxers with different kinds of waistbands, but generally, I was not happy with boxers. The problem is that they ARE very loose. They aren't flattering and they bunch up in your pants sometimes or ride up into the places where the sun doesn't shine. Also, not fun.

Then, in college sometime, I discovered Jockey's Sport Boxer Briefs. They rock. They don't have a fly. They have a smooth, cloth waistband. (Not the midway kind, because I'm not trying to wear a pair of pants under my pants.) They give you the support of briefs without threatening the circulation of my legs. Love that. The downside is that they are expensive for underwear. Sometimes they sell for as much as $13 for a single pair. But they are sooooo comfy!

The last time I was at the Jockey outlet buying underwear, a pair of their Sport Briefs (Sorry, I couldn't find a link) got mixed in with my Boxer Briefs. And, do you know what? They are awesome, too! They don't have a fly either and they are supportive and, if I might add, very flattering.

The only thing I don't like about the sport briefs or boxer-briefs is that they rise pretty high on my waist. In general, I do not want people seeing my underwear. Yes, I know it's the style and all that, but I'm old-fashioned like that.

Well, I went shopping for underwear last night and the outlet didn't have any sport briefs that aren't mid-rise. I was disappointed, so I decided to try some of their bikini underwear. They looked to me just like briefs, but without the fly and the waistband remains low. It's not the flat waistband I like, but I thought I'd give it a try anyway.

Bad idea.

These stupid underwear make me crazy. I'm not saying they don't look great (although they do look a lot like panties) and if I ever go on a hot date or something, I might wear them. But they don't really fulfill their function as underwear if you ask me.

Underwear is to cover, contain, support, and protect your genitals. The inside of outer clothing can be rough and unforgiving. Underwear also helps prevent unfortunate zipper accidents. Basically, I love underwear and think I need to wear it as much as possible.

Well, these underwear are made of FLIMSY material, so it's drafty in my pants. I'm not bragging or anything, but these tiny little things do not fulfill the "containment" function, if you catch my meaning, and that is quite disconcerting. Also, the elastic around the legs is pushing into my leg in an uncomfortable way. Furthermore, there is this stupid tag on the inside that is scratching my hip.

I think I will try Jockey's seamfree low-rise briefs, though. The material seems more substantial. It looks like the waistband I like. They're tagless. They also seem to cover a little more than these bikini briefs while not aspiring to the heights of a control-top.

I can't believe I used to not give much thought to underwear. Good underwear is comfortable, sexy, and functional. REALLY good underwear comes in a wide array of colors and patterns, too, so you can match them to your outfit, but sometimes I ask a lot.

Good underwear will change your life. I swear.

Update: Ok. Now I have to complain about sizing. Here's the chart they give:

WAIST (inches) CHEST (inches)
Small (S) 36 28-30
Medium (M) 38-40 32-34
Large (L) 42-44 36-38
Extra Large (XL) 46-48 40

My waist is 32". Why is my waist not on this chart? I am a full-grown man and I am able to buy pants with that waist size. Why aren't uderwear made with me in mind? And I don't know what my chest size is. I'm going to continue buying mediums, but still. Bothersome.

Update 2: Since I'm telling you what I think about underwear, I did leave out one classification of underwear in the discourse above: thongs. My ex-boyfriend thinks that thongs are attractive and so he bought me one once. I am against them for reasons that should be immediately obvious.

I don't like underwear that crawls up my butt and thongs are designed to do exactly that. Ladies, I do not envy you on this; your outerclothing is often made of really sheer fabrics that do not hide panty-lines.

I think that for men, if you just need to show your butt in your underwear, you should go for the jock strap approach, but I don't really like those either. 1) the waistband is usually too wide, 2) the waistband is usually made of uncovered elastic, 3) containment issues also prevail, 4) I would also add covering your butt to one of the benefits of underwear in most cases.

Cleaning House

Well, as I write this, 3/4 of my house is clean. Laundry is done. Dishes are done. The floors are done. Every thing has seen the touch of disinfectant, ammonia, or bleach.

Unfortunately, the remaining 1/4 is the part that was occupied by the crackheads and they left things in disarray.

But my parents are coming up this week, so I have to make sure that the area is inhabitable by them, which means neat, clean, and devoid of the funny smells that my roommates seem to have suffused onto every thing they touched.

*sigh*

Well, I gotta hop back to it.

Y'all have fun!

People. I'm Not THAT Bad

Coworker: I think I know that guy you were talking about. Well, know of him.

Flibby: Oh yeah?

Coworker: Yeah. The one with the leather sandals. He wears 3/4 length pants and pink vests?

Flibby: WHAT? Manpris?!?!

Coworker: Manpris?

Flibby: And pink vests? No, that is NOT him. Please! Give me SOME credit. I can't believe you would think that about me.

Coworker: Yeah. It kind of sounded wrong as I said it.

For the record, I am not trying to score dates with a man wearing manpris and a pink vests. Christ.

And I would DEFINITELY know he's gay if that's what he wears.

Query

Ok... so I'm watching the Smallville Seaon Premier and I have a few questions.

1) Why is the Smallville hospital always so dark?
2) Why does Lana keep hurting her legs?
3) How does no one ever find the Fortress of Solitude?
4) Why does anyone tolerate Lex lecturing about honesty?
5) Where's General Zod?
6) Where can I get a Krytonian outfit for work? (And a sock puppet?)

And also, Chloe's hair is great. It's a bit grown up, but still fabulous.

Word to the Wise

I don't pick up on hints well. This is largely due to the fact that I don't focus on people to the level that is socially-acceptable.

So, if you come to my house and say something like, "Wow! Did you make that apple pie youself? It looks delicious!"

I will say, "Well, no, actually. Mrs. Smith made it. I just put it in the oven."

And then I will keep talking about whatever else, completely missing the fact that you would like a piece of pie.

Actually, if you're at my house and I have pie, I will probably try to force it upon you because I don't think anyone should leave my house hungry, but that's a whole other issue.

The point is that I don't pick up on hints like that. You have to ask.

At my office, I'm supposed to give out raffle tickets. It's for a drawing or something. Well, someone came into my office this morning and they were like, "So, do we have to buy these tickets?" And I said, "Nope." And I kept on working on what I was working.

Just now, I realized that the speaker wanted a ticket. He should have asked!

So, the lesson is to not drop hints to me. Just go ahead and ask. Or make sure I'm paying attention to you when you drop a hint. So, clear away all shiny things. Do not present a brain teaser to me prior to dropping your hint. Do not tell me some bit of trivia or teach me some new bit of information. Otherwise, I will not be thinking about you. Instead, you should put your hands on my shoulders and look me in the eye and say, "Gee, that pie looks REALLY delicious and I am SO hungry." And then I might get it.

I'm just saying.

Slow child at play.

One of THOSE Days

I woke up late this morning. The whole sun not rising when I say it should thing is really screwing up my schedule. Ok. Also, me running late at night (8 o'clock) really isn't helping me wind down like it used to.

But anyway, I rode to work this morning with the crazies. And by "rode to work" I just mean that I drove here in my car and they in theirs and they did their best to make me question why I don't have a permit to carry.

I decided that as long as I'm going to be a few minutes late, I'd best do it up right and go to Starbuck's before I come into the office. I did that and I remembered that I brought two bananas with me this morning and now my desk looks like the pilgrims stopped by to thank me for lending them a quarter. Of course, by "remembers I brought two bananas" I mean that I just didn't stop to look at my hand. I'm a space cadet this morning.

I had my hands full this morning carrying my note pad, my ipod, my symbolic logic book, two bananas and a muffin and do you know what that crazy barista did? She put my "coffee" on the counter and set the sleeve on top. I had to set everything down to free up my hands to assemble my own coffee. Anyone who knows me at all knows that I do no like food that I have to assemble. If I wanted to be a hunter-gatherer I would have gone to summer camp. Of course, this women didn't know me and if she hadn't jumped back behind that big machine, she would know all about it by now.

On the upside, I get to go to class today. There's a boy in there that I think is cute, but I can't tell if he's gay. Sometimes he picks out gay clothes in the morning. So gay that only a straight boy would wear them like that. Like GAAAYYY! But it will be nice to see him even though I won't talk to him.

And also, Sheryl Crow's new CD came out today. Unfortunately, I doubt that Amazon is dropping it off on my doorstep today, so I have to wait. I'm told it's good. Of course, I was told the last one was good and I like maybe three or four songs off of that.

Oh! And Sheryl, I swear if you pull another one of those "live concert" CDs again I'm going to break all the strings on your guitar and cut up all of your Live Strong bracelets. I hate that CD. Every time I try to listen to your music that CD comes up with people screaming and cheering and random rock stars singing where I'm trying to hear you sing. I don't like it. Don't eff with me, woman.

Yeah, so anyway. I need to get to work. I'm so behind on SO many things and it's only 8:30 or so. Oh well. It's like they say, "You gotta get glad in the same pants you got mad in."

Oddly enough, I said that to some Californians yesterday and they had no idea what I meant, but I digress.

5K Today!

My running buddy ditched me today. "Let me know when you can do at least 3 miles and then we'll run together again."

I wasn't hurt by this exactly because I was looking forward to our time together, but you can bet the rent I was determined to get back up to 3 miles in under 30 minutes QUICK.

So, I came home tonight and rocked out a 5K (3.1 miles) in under 33 minutes.

[hitch-pitched voice here] "Call me when you can do three!"

I'll give you three and a tenth, biotch, and you'll like it!

33 minutes isn't a great time, but I did it. In two weeks she and I will be training together again. With cold weather coming, it will be prime time for me to do speed training.

Oh, and there wasn't any death rattle in my throat tonight. I kept my pace slower than last night and it helped me regulate my breathing better to avoid the painful huffing and puffing. I think when I get back into shape the death rattle will go away again.

So there.

One Down 13.1 More To Go

I got the word from my podiatrist today that I'm allowed to start running again. I'm very happy about that, but I just ran a mile and I am now worried about the half marathon I'm planning to run on Thanksgiving Day.

I didn't run it really fast and, though there are a couple of hills, they aren't big, steep hills or anything. But I'm sitting here and my cheast hurts, my teeth hurt, I'm STILL panting, and my legs are acting like Harry Potter is trying to put the Petrificus Totalis on them.

I'm supposed to pick up with my running buddy tomorrow, but if I can't make it through one, I don't know how I'm going to do three or four with her. And getting back to where I can run more than 13 in a sitting is looking pretty scary right now.

But, I did this once and I can do it again. Whereas before it took me a couple of years to get up to that point, I have two months to get back. Looks like I'll be on the five or six runs a week plan again.

Gotta go stretch. I'll catch up with y'all in a bit.

Update: Does anyone know what the rattle is in my throat? It's kind of like I'm congested, but I don't feel congested. When I inhale, though, there's this rattle and a "hot soup" feeling in my throat. I find that it goes away after I get back in shape, but since I'm out of shape and trynig to run again, it's here. It also happens if I get a cold and try to run. What is that?