August 29, 2003

As Ready As I'm Gonna Be

Shit. I've still got a bajillion things to do, but I guess they'll all be here Wednesday when I get back.

Off to Provincetown. Y'all have a good Labor Day.

August 28, 2003

Nice to Know You

Apparently I say this when being introduced to people, instead of the usual "nice to meet you." Two people commented on it during last night's very engaging fete (which turned out to be conveniently located on this side of the river) where I met/knew all sorts of wonderful people.

But you don't know me, you just met me.

It made me wonder where I picked up that expression. Is it all that uncommon? I'm sure I didn't just create a new response in the "Introductions 101" chapter of Charming Cocktail Conversations. I'm not half that clever.

Maybe somebody said it to me in another region. My Australian friends ask "How you going?" instead of our "How's it going?" My Cincinnati relatives say "Please" when they want someone to repeat something. My New Orleans pals go to the Schwegman's to "make groceries," not buy them.

In any case, it was a great evening in a very cool space and I'm glad to have met you all. Maybe I'll know you next time.


Thanks to everyone who sent the crazy lady my mom a birthday note. She was tickled pink.

Maybe If It Had TiVo ...

Today's Times reports that those silly televisions will be taken out of taxis.

"New Yorkers didn't embrace these units like they could have," Matthew W. Daus, the commission's chairman, said yesterday. "Our surveys indicated that those who experienced the units showed either indifference or negativity."

That's pretty much how everybody I know feels about Bloomberg. Can we remove him as well?

August 27, 2003

It's Not Right ...

In this morning's AJC ....

Brown's wife, singer Whitney Houston, arrived late for the hearing. Soon after, her cellphone went off with the sound of a chicken squawking. She answered it, telling her caller, "I'm in court, what do you want?"

Make a Deposit in Your Karma Account

Hey there. You bored? I venture to say yes, if you've found yourself at this little corner of the blogworld.

Here's a fun way to kill 10 seconds. Send my mom a Happy Birthday e-mail. She'll love you forever (but not as much as she loves me.)

Thanks For Playing, But ....

Well didn't Andra just make BMB all about her last night? "America will think I'm an asshole." Um, too late. Brian was totally edited as the red-herring straight guy; I'm still going against conventional wisdom and saying it's Wes.

Anybody else noticed the really bad continuity/editing gaffs during when getting-more-annoying-by-the minute James told her about the "twist"?

Memo to Kyan: Could you pop over to Palm Springs on one of your Tonight Show visits and help Andra with her color? It's getting pretty bad.

One more week and then I'm on methadone maintenance for this ridiculous addiction.

Alison: (and I paraphrase) It's a nice dress, but for Jun? Maybe they're trying to cover her up. That Jun needs to go on the Weight Watchers, and that Ali, she just needs to go.

Just got a call from a headhunter for a sweet job with amazing comp. In Baltimore. Next.

There's a little fete across the river tonight, and I could so use a pre-Ptown party. Thanks to you for the invite, and rumor has it I get to meet you, which I'm very much looking forward to.

Back to the grindstone.

August 26, 2003

Star Grazing

If Ms. Jones gets her bypass surgery, will she still be big enough to host her solo spin-off, Blocking the View?

August 25, 2003

Supply Your Own Rim Shot

I had a really crappy day at work and this, from my friend George, made me laugh harder than it probably should've.

My neighbor found out her dog could hardly hear so she took it to the veterinarian. He found the problem was hair in its ears and cleaned both ears and the dog could hear fine. The vet told the lady if she wanted to keep this from reoccurring she should go to the store and get some "Nair" hair remover and rub in its ears once a month.

The lady goes to the drug store and gets some "Nair" hair remover.

At the register the druggist tells her "If you're going to use this under your arms don't use deodorant for a few days." The lady says "I'm not using it under my arms."

The druggist says "If you're using it on your legs don't shave for a couple of days."

The lady says "I'm not using it on my legs either, and if you must know I'm using it on my schnauzer."

The druggist says "Stay off your bicycle for a week."

Just Say "Leave Me Alone, MoFo"

Just finished my online Diversity/Anti-Harassment training for work. Aside from learning many important managerial duhs lessons (CYA, listen to and document complaints, don't promise confidentiality, coming on to people at work parties is a bad thing), my biggest takeaway was that "Jessica" is an idiot and should never have been hired in the first place.

And the bad guy’s name was Bob. Hey! What’s that about?

I couldn’t separate work from Bob. He had overshadowed and poisoned everything.

Oh, I do feel empowered though -- as a manager, I’m the leader of a team like Jessica’s, and that puts harassment prevention right in my hands.

So go on, harass me. I double dog dare you.

I think she should have cast an evil voodoo curse on him. That would’ve fixed his no goodnik ways but good. But doesn’t one need ear wax for a proper hex? No worries, Jodi’s found the perfect solution. Pretty.

August 24, 2003

Patience is a Virtue Tattoo

It is such a beautiful day, again.

Took B. to the LES, where Larry suggested we all meet at Leshkos for brunch. Silly us, we forgot that Leshkos closed down awhile ago. Undaunted we watched some shirtless boys play chess in Tompkins Square Park, as the Howl revelers were gearing up for another day of festivities. Then meandered over to Virage, which has not shut down, for a delightful al fresco meal.

A quick cab ride to the West Village and B. popped into Lilac Chocolates, where he bought tasty souvenirs for friends back in the Queen City. Then we headed back north towards home base.

I walked over to Rising Dragon and got the tattoo I've been talking about for a couple years -- the symbol for patience is now inked onto my right shoulder. It was one of those spur-of-the-moment, yet planning on doing it for years events. So now Rodrigo's marked me for life, with a symbol of something I've been working very hard to cultivate over the past decade.

It was way less painful than I'd imagined. I'll have to rush out and get another. Oh, that wouldn't be very patient, would it?


Quick recap of yesterday. Found all the perfect presents I needed. Delphinium Home could be my new favorite store (next to Utilities, d'accord) ... and Bernie's my new favorite shop girl. I think I need those long-stemmed martini glasses in a vase (hint hint to any birthday shoppers out there).

Miss Redgrave was the most spellbindingly scary dope fiend this side of Betty Ford. What an amazing performance. Twisted passive aggression, thy name was Mary Tyrone last night.

August 23, 2003

Birthdays Aplenty

Today's my friend B.'s 61st birthday. He's in from Cincinnati, staying with us for the weekend. Tonight we're going to see his favorite play, Long Day's Journey to A Curtain Call Into Night. It's his first trip to Manhattan since the late seventies. It's pretty much the same city, except now 42nd Street is a Disney store.

And Lucky Girl L. is having a birthday soiree as well, out in her new Meadowwood digs. Alas, regrets were sent as we other otherwise engaged at the Plymouth Theater.

Wednesday is my mom's birthday. Have no idea what to get her, but I best get on the ball and get something wrapped and shipped. Any suggestions?

Speaking of Virgos, only 3 weeks till this one gets another candle stuck in his cake. No, that's not a euphemism.

It's the most beautiful day today. Almost gorgeous enough to make one forget that during a festive dinner party last night, the radiator in the middle room sprung a leak and now the Oriental rug is all stained, the hardwood floors are buckling and the super still hasn't showed up to give us his expert opinion. "Um, looks like there's a leak."

Oh well. I'm heading out to walk in the sunshine, look at the amazing blue skies and revel in the low humidity as I search of several birthday gifts. Hell, it's so pretty I just might even skip.

Wish me luck.

August 22, 2003

You Never Know Unless You Ask

The rules, if you don't know them already.

1. Leave a comment, saying you want to be interviewed.
2. I will respond; I'll ask you five questions.
3. You'll update your website with my five questions, and your five answers.
4. You'll include this explanation.
5. You'll ask other people five questions when they want to be interviewed.

Here are my gorgeous questions from Chris:

1. What's your favorite place to vacation and why?

Exploring most any tropical (water temp above 78) reef, 15-80 feet underwater with 60+ feet of visibility and a SCUBA tank strapped to my back. Nothing’s more peaceful than hanging out with the sea critters, blowing bubbles, and being weightless.

Our house in Provincetown is one of my favorite places; it’s the closest thing to sanctuary that I know of. However, since it is pretty much a home away from home, it doesn't count as vacation.

2. If you could see one play or musical again once a year for the rest of your life, which one would you choose?

Oh gods, oh gods, are you there?

Once on This Island. Never have I gotten so worked up over a Cast Recording, and a dozen years later, it still moves me. Didn’t see the original show in New York, but saw the first National Tour in Chicago. We went to the BCEFA benefit last May, and from the opening chords, I was pretty much a mess through the whole thing. Hello, Sappy, party of one. For me, it’s one of the most perfect examples of theater as storytelling -- the frame of the storm, the theme of love conquering death, the wonderful lyrics. When the gods cry for Ti Moune's death, well ... I'm weeping right there with them.

Our lives become the stories that we weave.

3. Which, if any, charities or nonprofits do you regularly donate to?

Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS, God's Love We Deliver, New York Theater Workshop.

4. What blogger would you most like to see nekkid as the day he or she (yeah, right) was born?

Hmm, a tough one – Hugh Jackman doesn’t have a blog, does he?

I'm fascinated by Michael. I’m always saying talent is an aphrodisiac. He already puts his naked soul out through his beautiful words; why not add the corporeal? He’s wicked handsome and if the rest of him looks half as good as he writes, how could it not be delicious?

5. You're in charge of the Oscars this year. Who are you going to have host?

Andy and Jackie Hoffman. Wouldn’t that be a kick?!? They both deserve the national exposure. Barring that (plus, I imagine he'll be unavailable due to his impending trip to Singapore), I guess we could hire Ellen Degeneres.

August 21, 2003

A-gay-zing Race

Chip and Reichen won?!?!? Wow. I really had my money on the goats ... and, poor dahlin's, they didn't even get to cross the finish line on camera.

Let's see. A million bucks. That's a little less than $600 grand after taxes, split it in two and Reichen's got around a quarter million to branch out on his own and dump the asshole. And according to reports, that's exactly what he did. Maybe Chip can use his money for driving lessons and anger management. And perhaps just a skosh of liposuction.

As for not needing lipo, young Jon looked kinda cute all nekkid. "Look at that big ... rock." Anybody got a contact at CBS who can get me some of that tape without the blurry circles? I promise to keep it all to myself and not sell it on eBay.

August 20, 2003

Answers and Questions

Lots of information being bandied about at work today. For the first time in years, we've got official word on staffing changes before the rumor mill went into overtime. There's a new CEO for North America. My "transitional" boss is being transitioned right out of the company, so it looks like I've got a new boss (my third in as many months). One of the steering commitees I sit on has been "realigned" to included business heads instead of the likes of me (which is kind of a blessing).

And to think, I was this close to being gone just a couple months ago. See all the fun I'd have missed?

Of course, all these changes only invite more questions, some of which may be answered next Thursday in a meeting that's already been with the new, new boss (TNNB) on his trip to New York next week. Less than an hour after the big conference call with the Grand Pooh-Bah of the firm, TNNB had left me a voicemail saying he wanted to make sure I was in the loop on everything and he'd be seeking me out to get my input on the his newly expanded team.

"Wow, you must be pretty high on his list if he called you that quickly," said one of my colleagues in a different department.

"Either that or first on his list of people to get rid of."

Is the glass half-empty or half-full? Either way, I think I need another drink.


Speaking of questions, Scott has answered mine quicker than you can say "Corporate Restructure." If only all my questions were addressed so promptly and efficiently. Go on, ask him something yourself.

I asked him about Ruth Dix ... who I'm glad to hear is alive and well. She was one of the first drag queens I saw on any kind of regular basis, back in Cincinnati during my early 20's, which is not to be confused with the early 20s (you bitches). She was not one of those glamour drag queens (not that I don't love high-kickin' lyp synching), but was sick and twisted and made me laugh till I cried. Kind of like when Pissonya Peoples used to make me howl at The Dock.

She preferred shots with her tips, and if she didn't like the particular flavor of Schapps that you handed her, you'd more than likely end up wearing it. She used to perform at some bar in Clifton (name escapes me) that was a sister (so to speak) club to an Indianapolis. Hence the reference to our favorite blogging Hoosier. Because I knew you were interested.

August 19, 2003

Boy Irritates Boy

I don't know which is the most annoying:

a) How ridiculously painful Boy Meets Boy is.
b) The fact that I'm still watching it, and will watch again next week.
c) Kyan saying "I gotta tell you something, there's a lot of power in a pedicure and a spray-on tan." Oh girl.

Queer Eye: So what was the deal with Super Cop being all homophobic in front of the guys and then a big ol' goofy girl in front of his bodacious girlfriend?

BMB: Didn't Bravo tell us at the beginning that 5 of the 15 guys were straight? Seems to me they've identified six so far, and are now saying there's one more? Not only did they lie to James, but they've lied to us as well. An outrage. Doesn't Dubya have anything better to do than be strategic advisor to Queer TV?

BB4: Too bad Justin didn't get the veto. It would have been a much better show next week. I hope it doesn't become as boring as London's season ending ... it was on when I was there last month and Oh. My. God. what a yawnfest.

"Hello, 311? Yes, hi. Can you tell me where my life went?"

And on a non-TV note, Haven Kimmel's memoir has been putting a grin on my face every day for the past week or so. I'm keeping it down just just a few pages a day, 'cause I'm not wanting it to end.

August 18, 2003

It Keeps You Running

Coming home from work this afternoon was like Christmas. The USPS guy brought me a new pair of shoes and the UPS dude brought me a new pair of DVDs, starring the namesake of Carrie Bradshaw's ex-boyfriend.


Workwise, the rumor mill's starting to churn again, and it looks like we might be reworking the org charts in the none-too-distant future. This one could hit home. Stay tuned.

August 17, 2003

Got the shakes, Aunt Charlotte?

The garden party turned a little soggy. Undaunted, we headed inside to plenty of wonderful food, drink and laughs, and proceeded to enjoy the smokingest movie ever. A perfect rainy evening spent with Charlotte Vale, Dr. Jasquith, Jerry Durrance and one of the nicest Boston moms in cinematic history.

Charlotte is no more ill than a molting canary.

Speaking of bad mothers, my favorite neighborhood vegetarian alludes to a prime specimen in her delightful account of Thursday's pre-blackout date with herself.

Her story reminded me of a walk I had through the Hudson River Park a few weekends ago. I was heading north, after parking the car at Pier 40. I approached one brick buildings that face the new piers. Someone had propped up their bicycle alongside the building, presumably to use the facilities inside.

On the back of the unattended bike was a baby seat, complete with sleeping baby. The kid was helmeted (small consolation) and I'm sure the missing guardian was close by, but still. The stupidity of it all just overwhelmed me. What would have happened if the kid had a bad dream, or heard a loud noise and got startled? I could just see him waking up, twisting around, knocking the bike over and going kaboom on the cement. What thoughtful idiots parents.

On the other hand, I love the fact that kids can feel so safe and secure that they just conk out in the middle of the city, especially when being pushed around in a stroller. I wish someone would push me around while I slept (and I'd look really cute in a big old pram, although I'd probably need ear plugs and an Auntie Mame eye mask).

DIY Sunday Tea

Tidying up around the house, getting the TiVo refilled, catching up on some classwork and I just put this on the CD player. Not the most progressive mix, but entertaining nonetheless. Heading over to the Slope in about an hour for frozen drinks, grilled treats and trademark homemade Key Lime Pie on Dr. Michaud's fabulously flora'ed roof deck.

Took a Potty virgin to Andy's show last night. Still every bit as funny and so much fun to watch him fully commit, even with a smallish (but seemingly appreciative) house in a tiny little black red box venue. One-man shows have got to be one of the bravest of all performance pieces.

Walked home from the East Village after the show last night, and then couldn't fall asleep to save my life. There's only one thing more peaceful than sitting on your midrise balcony at 3 in the morning, in the dark, enjoying the cool breeze ... sitting there naked.

August 16, 2003

We've Got the Power

Since CB had stiill had water yesterday afternoon, we popped over to his house for what could have been the most refreshing shower I've ever had the pleasure to enjoy. We were squeaky clean and ready to hit the streets again, armed with the knowledge that save for Kip's Bay and Chelsea, the city had power again. Who lives in Kip's Bay? And what did Con Ed have against the fags? Did they think we were all on Fire Island and didn't need power? Another right-wing conspiracy to be sure.

Headed up to midtown to Therapy, where CB had never been. Were there only a short time when we ran into L. and his boyfriend P. L. was hosting a big dinner party at the table downstairs (who were all those univited guests?) and good times were had by all. Happy Birthday to all the handsome Leo's we met ... 3 birthday boys in one night, including a couple who were a day apart in their birthdays (one yesterday, one today).

During one smokey break, around 10pm, I borrowed L.'s phone (mine was MIA) and called home, just to check. Three rings and a "Hello, you've reached 627- ...." Woo hooooo! Never have I been so happy to hear my voice on my own answering machine. The electricity had been restored.

I skipped back into the bar, right past the bouncer who had handcuffs on the back of his belt (a little aggressive for a bouncer, eh?) and ordered a celebratory round of "Chelsea's back" cocktails.

Made it home a little after midnight. Hello Mr. Elevator. Hello Mr. Television. Hello Ms. Vornado. It's good to have you all back.

August 15, 2003

Blacked Out with a Blackberry

This is being typed in on my Blackberry, not sure how it'll turn out. (addendum, seems it didn't turn out too well, so I reformatted it on Saturday morning)

Landed at La Guardia yesterday afternoon around 5:45. Pilot told us there was a power outage in the area, so we'd have to wait for a stairway to get wheeled to the plane. And the last 24 hours have been a continuing series of "wait fors".

Ended up on a bus to 72nd and 2nd, then gridlock was unbearable and I hoofed it with my luggage down home to 23rd and 9th. All hail the rollaboard carry-on.

The city was a trippy party last night, never seen so many open containers, not to mention people walking down the streets carrying cocktails in bar glasses and/or stemware. It was like a casual night in the French Quarter, but without the lights.

Been to the office this morning, where nothing was going on, but we had electricity. Larry met me there, 'cause he couldn't get into his work building. Apparently the old ad campaign is wrong; the Citi does in fact sleep if there's no juice. We had a lovley lunch in midtown, with CB as well, and meandered back to Chelsea.

I'm back home now, no power or water. It's very Laura Ingals Wilder, but no cute pa to help out and save the day. Hoping that Mary doesn't go blind and that Nellie Olsen stays out of my way.

Could go back outside and see some more sights, but walking back up to the 9th floor seems daunting. I'd so not have been a good pioneer.

One thing I don't get. They keep saying to conserve power once it comes back on, but all of Times Square has been lit up since 9 this morning. Is that PR "we're alive and well in NYC", bad planning, or just stupid consumption?

Oh, and martinis without ice aren't nearly as tasty. Cheers.

August 14, 2003

If You're Up There ...

Dear Diety,

If I am blessed to live into my 60’s, I have a couple requests.

If you decide that my hair needs to recede, please don’t ever let me dye my hair jet black and grow a cheesy little moustache.

If you send me on a convention to the Four Seasons in Atlanta, please don’t let me walk through the gym there, dressed in a dandy suit with pocket square and silver bracelets, carrying a cocktail, and proceed to ogle the younger men who work out there. If I do wish to look at the boys at the gym, at least give me the foresight to pretend to work out and put on some gym clothes. Are cocktails appropriate in a gym area?

If I want to enjoy a sauna, please remind me not stare at the younger men and rub my chest as if I were giving myself a breast cancer self-examination.

If I decide to shave my balls at the gym, after having a cocktail tour and a steam, please remind me to go into the shower stall and not just stand there naked in front of a mirror with hotel shave cream on my sac and a disposable Bic razor. Better yet, maybe you could remind me to take care of said grooming in the privacy of my own home or hotel room.

Also, if I have more hair on my flabby old-man ass than my head, maybe you’d want to send a sign for me to do something about that.

Thanks for your time,


P.S. If you could send back Webelo-cap boy, I’d be much obliged.

August 13, 2003

Big Meetings with the Big Wigs

A very long day of quasi-productive meetings with a slew of Texans here in Atlanta -- where there are actually these odd things called sunshine and blue sky. I've been assured they don't stick around for long.

Had a most entertaining visit with the charming John last night. Ptown's going to be all the more fun in two weeks, having a new friendly face to carry on with. And I expect there will be some carrying on.

As amazing as my home away from home is, they don't have Bravo. My Queer Eye is suffering temporary blindness.

Speaking of queer eyes, mine was caught by the hottie at the gym last night, wearing a Webelos cap and continually shamelessly exposing checking out the washboard underneath his tank top. They say no one likes a show-off, but last night I made an exception.

August 12, 2003

Two Degrees of Reality Gossip

A friend heard from a friend that ...

The reason Kyan never cuts hair, just stands around offering products and shaving tips while asking, "How does your new cut make you feel?" is that he just got his hairburner licensce a year ago.

Reichen is out and about dating in L.A., even though he and his heinous "husband" are still doing the Amazing Race junkets as a couple. Don't know if they won or not.

Sad. I kinda feel as if I've soiled my blog. But I didn't much care for that Chip.


Off to Atlanta this afternoon for a couple days of work and adult beverages.

August 11, 2003

Smoking Rules

I don’t know why this little exchange has got me fuming.

I went downstairs for a little smoke break. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know all the reasons in the world why I shouldn’t be smoking in the first place. But I am. Deal. I’ll quit again someday. Probably someday soon. But in the meantime, I’m smoking.

So I’m standing outside the building, looking at the nice plaza. They’ve recently put up a new memorial for the Marsh people that were lost in 9-11 and I stepped out from under the canopy to get a better look.

“Excuse me, buddy,” says this big guy with a build like Ms. Spears’ bodyguard. Black slacks, black golf shirt, big belly hanging over his belt. “If you’re gonna smoke, I need to stay under the canopy.” He nods, turned and walked away, revealing “SECURITY” in big block letters across his back. Where am I, at a concert?

“No problem,” was my filtered response. I inhaled, stepped a foot closer to the building and blew smoke into to the non-canopied air. Mature, eh?

I’m outside for fuck’s sake. No one’s around me. I’m a good 15 feet away from any seating areas. It’s not like there’s some high-tech force field that’s separating the good oxygen from the evil carbon monoxide. And if you're going to establish a "smoking area" then at least put the ashtrays inside the area, not in the deciggafied zone between the canopy and the hallowed fresh-air plaza. How smart do you have to be to figure that out?

It’s like when there were designated smoking areas in restaurants, say at the bar, but there were “non-smoking” tables two feet away. What was the point of that?

Light. Inhale. Hold. Release. *cough* Repeat.


And on a lighter note (okay, I'll stop), Larry came up with the uncharacteristically non-frugal idea go to Ptown for Labor Day, despite the fact our place is rented. I wholeheartedly endorse the decision.

We're booked at Land's End. Woo hooooooooooo.

August 9, 2003

Look Ma'am, An Invitation

And we're off to Connecticut for a weekend with our friends P. & D.

how enchanting, on the manicured lawns

I've really got a lot to do here at home, but this has been planned for awhile, and it does promise to be a good time.

how amusing, how delightfully droll

I just wish the weather were nicer so we could take advantage of their new pool.

For a weekend in the country, so inactive that one has to lie down.

Larry's off to the parking garage and we'll be motoring on shortly. Pray that the traffic gods are smiling.

August 8, 2003

This is Not My Beautiful House

Ambling down 23rd Street this morning, I saw something I don't normally see in the middle of the city sidewalk.

An earthworm.

I couldn't help but wonder how Inchy had ended up so far from his natural habitat. I figure a bird picked him up at a local park (after all, who hasn't been picked up at a local park?), grew weary of the wriggling burrower and cast him off at the sight of something more appealing.

Come to think of it, that seems to be a common Chelsea story.

August 7, 2003

A Tightly-Packed Kitty

Starting tomorrow, my friend Steven and a group of his friends will be spending a week up at our place in Ptown. On Monday night, he will be performing in Showgirls as his esteemed yet none-too-classy alter-ego, Miss Connie Cat. (Those of you in the French Quarter may recognize her as the hostess of Good Friend's annual Trailer Park Beauty Pageant.)

But right now he's at the airport heading to Kansas City for a pre-vacation business trip. Just got off the phone with him.

"Girl, I've checked a luggage parfait. Connie on the bottom, me in the middle and work drag on top."

His big fear is something will set off the giant x-ray and TSA will have to open the bag and go through it, strewing wigs and make-up everywhere.

TSA stooge: "Uhm, sir, what's with the bags of grain?"

Connie: "What's the matter, ain't ya never seen boobs before?"

Ah, the Glorious Sights and Sounds ...

I took the F-train this morning, for a change of pace. Sometimes I decide to walk down 23rd Street rather than across Times Square. Yup, that's me, living on the edge.

When I got on the platform, 4 or 5 people were staring down at a rat trying to wrestle half an English Muffin back to its breakfast nook. Pretty. Please tell Willard that rats are supposed to be on the tracks, not on the platform.

Then we waited 20 minutes for the train. I usually don't take a morning sauna, and if I do it's at the gym without the added accoutrement of work clothes. Forehead dripping, perspiration coming through my shirt sleeves, the train finally arrived and I was able to step into the air-conditioned car. Ahhhh.

Doors close and the music starts. Big band. Really loud. A local artiste has decided to regale us with his trumpet skills, accompanied by the pre-recorded lounge act he's put on his mini-disc player which was plugged into a boombox/amplifier he has cleverly disguised in a carry-on bag. Subway cars have the best acoustics. Really.

We were assaulted with treated to The Lady is a Tramp and New York, New York.

And how was your morning?

August 6, 2003

"Who's the Mo?"

Justin ... heh, that'd work for me.

Buh bye, Ms. Man Troll. The house is a better place without you, although the catfights would have been good this next week.

Next on the block?? My money's on Jack and Ericka, but it's time for Alison to go.


Sounds like last night was a good night for a bout of insomnia. I hope you boys fare better this evening.

Pass the Aleve, Please

My legs are really sore today, stiff in places and ways I'm not used to ... calves, inner thighs, quads, glutes and that crease just inside the hip at the top of the leg.

It's not like I never run or go to yoga; granted it's not as often as it used to be.

So I wonder if it 's
a) Sunday's race
b) Monday's rigorous massage/stretching
c) Yesterday's softball
d) I got old all of a sudden
e) All of the above

August 5, 2003

He Swings, He Scores, He Orders In

The Humidity Festial in Central Park turned out to be a lot of fun. We had an egg toss (A. and I came in 3rd place, with no yolky mess) and a water balloon toss (last place, thank you very much).

And I played softball. I usually avoid such activities. I can't remember playing a team ball sport (bowling doesn't count, right?) since I was in La Habra Little League, which was, er, a couple years before the Bicentennial. I had a blast. Made some hits, caught some flies (balls, not insects) and even scored a run. Missed several grounders, had a bunch of laughs and left the field a sweaty, scruffy, skinned-knee mess.

An hour later I was all polished and having martinis at Le Cirque, talking about career plans and consulting opportunities.

And now we're at home, watching the new gay network run ads for phone sex, waiting for a Better Burger to be delivered.

Not Your Ordinary Rub

If you're near the Village, stop by Avalon and treat yourself to an hour and a half with Hamlet.

The first thing I noticed was that the table was a little low compared to most massage tables I've been on, and there have been several. No worries, he's not that tall and I'm sure he knows what he's doing.

Boy did he.

The table's set up low to the ground because he uses his feet as well as his hands. That sounds weird, I guess ... but it's no weirder than the first time you realize you've got one masseur and more than two appendages on your body. He hoists his leg up on the table, wedges his foot behind my heel and uses his leg to stretch mine, all the while working over my back and leg with his hands and forearms. I was pulled and rubbed, twisted and turned, all the time being coaxed in a European accent to "exhale." He'd manipulate me into a pretzel, use most of his body weight for leverage and stretch every bit of tension out of me. It was like getting a massage and a yoga class all at the same time, but he did all the work. Brilliant.

The only other time I've had somebody work so hard to give a massage was a Thai Massage up at Paul Lebrecque -- but that's fully clothed and on the floor. And the gymnast-bodied, Bel Ami-esqe Russian boy who did that was way hotter, but that's another story. Well, the story's only in my mind, but ... *oof* ... he was a dream.


This afternoon is our company's summer outing in Central Park. Forced socialization, picnic food and softball with co-workers. It's in the high 70's with 90% humidity and a 60% chance of thunderstorms. Joy. Can't I just go back to the spa?

I have to leave that early, get dolled up and head to Le Cirque for cocktails. Diversity is everything, right?

August 4, 2003

O, that this too too solid flesh would melt ...

Or maybe sullied .. wanna flip a quarto over it?

And whoosh, the first day of the week winds to a close. Lots of productive phone calls, a couple fires estinguished, a few egos assuaged and a trip to Atlanta scheduled for next week. The to-do list hasn't gotten any shorter, but at least it's different than it was this morning. That's some sort of progress, eh?

Nothing left to do but get a haircut and a 90-minute massage with a new guy at the spa named Hamlet. For real.

August 3, 2003

What Did Delaware?

Sat on the balcony tonight for about a half an hour ... watching the clouds over New Jersey be backlit by the most amazing lightning. Saw very few bolts, just lots of flashes which created a light show of gray and white, making the horizon light up in an everchanging 3-D backdrop ... like I was looking through the world's most giant Viewmaster.

The Shore was great this weekend. Found some of those endorphis I was looking for, and got the bonus of getting to know a couple of really good men a little better. Took a long bikeride through all the neighborhoods between Spring Lake and Asbury Park on Saturday, trying to get a feel for the neighborhoods we're thinking of buying a beachhouse in. This morning's 5K was a success ... came in a little under my goal of 30 minutes. After that came some reading and napping on the beach and then much frolicking in the rough surf.

A walk on the beach, and then a sidetrip to Paradise on the way home has led me to believe that once you get off Manhattan, the menfolk aren't as concerned about the fitness thing as those we encounter here at home. I felt downright in shape. And I say that from a place of observation, not of judgement.

All in all, a very restful weekend. The more time I spend with J, the more he becomes my role model ... he's successful beyond belief, and throughout his storybook journey has remained gracious, down to earth and friendly. He's been with H for 34 years now ... almost two decades of those living in different cities, different countries even. Now they have 4 homes in 3 countries, and as they get closer to retirement (one is there, one is not) they are spending more time together. It's such a kind, loving and fun relationship. Larry and I are 23 years behind them, and they so inspire to simply enjoy our moments together. You never know what forks are coming down the road, and it's amazing to look at all the choices we've made that have gotten us this far. Those are both the future and the past, and this is right now and it can all be so good. It's all sort of random, but it's all worked out so very well. So let's just sit back and enjoy the random.

Other random tidbits:
* Zeb Atlas in my mailbox. Thank you Mr. Postman.
* Ran across an old friend this evening. He's out of work (again) and trying to rework a slew of bad luck into something productive and healthy. And he changed his name ... to one that sounds like either soap opera or porn, and with an alternative spelling to boot.
* Alison's a freak, Dana could very well be the anti-Christ, and the Day 5 to Day 25 photo comparison of Jun was genius editing. She needs to get out of the house and go to Weight Watchers.
* SJP plays stoned really well, Charlotte's still annoying and it's delightful to see Ms. Nixon having someithing other to play than sad, overworked, feeling-sorry-for-herself Mommy.
* The kids (ages 12, 6, and 5) go to Disneyland for the first time tomorrow. What a great week for them ... they saw the ocean for the first time yesterday, and tomorow they're off to play with Mickey Mouse. That's nothing but good.
* Getting up early and having a good run first thing in the morning is an excellent way to start the day -- I was focused, had energy and felt great all day. Do I really have to register for a race and go to New Jersey just to do that?

Another busy week beckons, as does an 8am conference call tomorrow.


August 1, 2003

Let the Weekend Begin

We’re heading down to the Shore in about an hour to visit with friends, run a race, maybe look at some real estate and hopefully enjoy some nice weather at the beach, although that looks dubious.

I'm exhaustd today. This has been a really busy week (actually 2 weeks), and for all I’ve gotten done, it seems that there’s even more to do that hasn’t been touched. I’m trying to focus on the accomplishments rather than the neverending list of next tasks, but this afternoon Mr. Critic seems a little more vocal than Mr. Job Well Done. I hate when that happens.

I need a smart endorphin rush – a trip to the gym (the what??) or a nice long, slow run would probably do wonders, but it just seems like there’s no time. I know, I know … one has to make the time for such things. Work’s gotten really busy (which is really a good thing, and one I’ve asked for). But each successful conference call and planning meeting yields a seemingly unending list of phone calls to make, fire drills to deal with, memos to write, blah blah blah. It all just makes me want to take a nap. And of course, there are all these very important TiVo’d programs to watch when I get home. Pathetic.

Here endeth the whine.

Speaking of whining, Vanessa Carlton has just got to stop. There's room in the tent for everybody, but if she's going to stay inside, she's not allowed to vocalize.

Saw him yesterday afternoon, sitting in the plaza outside my office building, chatting away on his cell phone. He’s way cuter in person than in the movie. Hello ... when did I become a pedophile?

And speaking of children, a very happy birthday to Matt! I couldn’t be happier that my sister robbed the cradle several years ago. Not only are you an amazing gift to her and an incredible dad to the youngin’s (sigh, babies having babies), you’ve become the brother I never had and, as you know, we all love you very much. I hope you guys have a great time in California. Say hi to Mickey for me (and if Aladdin or Tarzan are extra cute, say hi to them too).

Have a good weekend, everyone.