March 30, 2004

Present Without Warning

The first time I saw Betty Buckley, she held my hand and sang,

I'm considering the lap of a most engaging chap
And I'll let him do exactly as I please.

That was back in 1987, during the opening number of Edwin Drood, the first show I ever saw on Broadway. I was a late bloomer to the Great White Way, but Iíve tried to catch up since.

I had the pleasure of seeing her again last night, and I am pleased to report that I have aged better than she. Fortunately, she did not repeat her offer, as I donít think she would have fit in my lap at this stage of the game. Iím not saying sheís big like Barbara Cook, Iím just saying sheís not going anywear near the petite section anytime soon.

However, Madame can still warble a tune.

Last night, self-stated show-tune sissy Just Jack MAK asked me to be his Karen walker at a William Finn review up near Lincoln Center.

For those of you not keeping score, MAK has regained his theater widow status as K has renewed his subscription to Working Woman magazine and is now off the dole gainfully re-employed, leaving our bovine-biased buddy to wander the streets in search of stray underwear and PSQN. And, in the case of last night, reasonably obscure theater songs.

Since my recent poll takers (as it were) have thoughtfully steered me clear of any misguided rehabilitation (blessings to each of you, and a pox on those who voted for Betty Ford and Hazelden), I was only too happy to wash down a couple of dolls helpers vitamins with some distilled potato wheat grass juice and keep the little nipper out of trouble.

It was really a lovely show. I laughed. I wept, I longed for an open bar. Each of Mr. Finnsí songs are stories, and the performers made them their own last night. Some tales I knew, others Iíll track down (already did in a couple instances) and listen to again and again.

I wanted to hug Jesse Tyler Ferguson after each of his numbers. So funny and sweet and adorable. And then when he held his own next to the Buckster in her tearful rendition of 14 Dwight Street ..., only to take his solo turn in When the World Stopped Turning, well Ö he wins.

The ladies were wonderful as well. Ms. Buckley was ever the gracious diva (looking like she was putting a master class through its paces most of the time. Janet Metz was also moving (but her Iím breaking down paled to Randi Graffís when I saw it in the real show).

Jerry Dixon, forever Daniel, could charm me to any island. Not just once. Stephen DeRosa was pretty and witty and gay. Sir William himself croaked out a few numbers and that was ... hey he writes 'em, he can sings 'em. Mr. Esparza, while perhaps teetering on the brink of overexposure (hmm, where was that Taboo credit in the program bios?), made me want to stick out my thumb and Hitchhike across America. He finished the show with a What More Can I Say that was so simple and moving that, well, it moved. What can I say. I always was a proponent of the "talent is an aphrodesdiac" theory. Or maybe I invented it.

Bottom line, it was one of those great New York nights that make me really glad to be here. I sometimes forget that there are all these little gems of experience to hunt down and relish. A one-night stand (and I was home by 11:30 and didnít even have to shower) by some of the best musical theater performers around, and so many of my friends who would have loved it werenít there. But I was. Sucks for them. Yay for me.

So thanks for the invite cow-boy. Iíd go again. Anytime.

So who's taking me out next?

March 28, 2004

28 Days?

I'm fairly certain I had an excellent weekend. There remains one question ...

Where should I check into?
Betty Ford
Hazelden
Promises
Beer blast at the Eagle
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

March 27, 2004

My Baby Don't Mess Around

Have you been to the underwear exchange at Cleo's? All the cool kids are doing it. Those of us in Camp Commando couldn't play. Poor Andrew ... his favorite Calvin's are now on his dining room table.

So I was on the phone with Larry the other day and asked if he was excited about my return home. He assured me he indeed was ... so much so that he was "dancing like a Kodak camera."

"You're what?"

"You know, that song we like. Isn't that what they say at the end?"

"You mean 'shake it like a Polaroid picture'?"

"Whatever."

March 24, 2004

No He Din't

I did not just fly down to Atlanta from Toronto at my boss's mandate request for a 4-hour meeting to have it turn into a 45-minute review of "where we stand" with my projects so he could head back to Europe this afternoon.

No, I flew down here so that I could enjoy the warm weather and have tony cocktails with friends. Yes, that must be why I'm here.

BTW, Church Street is a total bust on Tuesday nights (if one was looking for cute boys that one didn't already know, not that I'd be doing such a thing).

March 23, 2004

NoBlo* (by just a block)

Connie was right ... 9 out of 10 smokers are more popular.

"Good evening Mr. UncleBob, and welcome to the Four Seasons. We've been expecting you, eh."**

Confirming that I'd be here for two nights, the lovely lady at registration informed me that I'd be in a very nice "superior, non-smoking queen room."

"Well you know, I've been a kinda bad queen lately," I confided. "Any chance you have a smoking room available, with a king bed? If not, that's fine, but I'd really like a smoking king room if it's not too much trouble. I've never been to this property, but you're always so good to me in Atlanta."

She clicked around a bit, searching for some closet to toss me in. "Well sir, it seems we do have a room on a smoking floor, and I'll give you a complimentary upgrade. Enjoy your stay."

Not only is my king-sized bed sweet, but it's in a suite. Dude.

Hey Philth, remember what happened last time I got upgraded to a 4S suite? Um, we will not be repeating that little fun fest.


* With apologies to Jer.
** Okay, I embellished the "eh." This time.

March 22, 2004

What is This Odd Box-Shaped Room?

My first day in the office in two weeks. Well, really only a half-day as I've got to jump a jet to Toronto this afternoon. I've got a million things to catch up on after being away for most of the month, but can't seem to figure out where to start (or what to start on) so I may as well look forward to a couple planned bright spots that await me over the next few days on the North American leg of March madness ...

* Dinner and drinks with my favorite Canadian kindergarden teacher tonight. Seems hes been dating someone who is, gasp, neither A) from out of town nor B) a part of an existing relationship. How can this be? I might even get to meet the mystery man (who as it turns out is a massage therapist and may be able to balance out my unattended parts from yesterday's half-assed rub).

* A long-awaited return to Atlanta on Wednesday morning. Not only will I get to see my favorite design drunks boys, but maybe get a bonus visit in with these two and their lovely friends.

March 21, 2004

Promises in the Dark

When is a promise not a promise? If you go for a full body massage and they don't touch your butt or chest ... then that is not a full body massage. Was there not a promise there? When one's told that plans will be made and then they are not ... is that just unfortunate happenstance, or a broken promise?

If Mrs. Vaughn does a nice deed, is she still not promised an evil death for sleeping with Sark (before I did)?

Perhaps the gods just do not like me in America. I shall leave the country again tomorrow. And when I return, I will have lowered my expectations. They're easier to manage that way.

Today's dose of disenchantment has led me to question deeper things ... like when my sex-changed cat sits and stares off into space, is he missing the mother and perhaps brothers and sisters he oh-so-briefly knew. Did he even know he had a father? Does he stalk about the house meowing because he's lonely ... or that he just misses his penis? Do cats thinks about family?

I know when I'm lonely and/or miss cock, I pop an Ambien, turn off the lights, and go to sleep. All promises to better in the morning.

We shall see.

All the Comforts of Home

The hotel room I woke up in this morning looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. Still half asleep, I snuggled up behind the naked boy that joined me in bed last night. The back of his neck smelled of sleep and fresh linen.

"If you want coffee or breakfast or anything, just dial room service and have it sent up," I whispered, gently rubbing his back.

I heard a muffled "okay" and I fell back asleep.

A little while later, I my brain registered the smell of coffee and something toasted.

"Room service couldn't make it, but here's an English Muffin and some coffee."

The voice rings a bell. Oh, it's Larry. I'm home. For a day or so.

March 19, 2004

Yeah Cheers, Thanks a Lot

I was having a "getting to know you" chat with one of my new London employees. On the last trip I had drinks with him and his brother (both really good guys), and we'd discovered a common Alias obsession attraction so we've been exchanging speculations as to the return of Spy Mommy and why Sloane owns us all.

Now that I'm gonna be his boss I thought we should move away from plot development and touch on professional development. So we talked about his role, what he likes doing, what he doesn't like doing, etc. I asked where he wanted to be a few years down the road and he smiled and said, "I have no idea."

He's been to medical school but he didn't fancy it as much as he'd thought, and has unexpectedly found himself being the "fix it" guy for a lot of data automation projects here in the happy land of asset management.

I completely empathize. Six or seven years ago, I was going to be an actor ... and now I'm the would-be doctor's boss. You never really know where you're gonna end up.

"You were an actor? That's brilliant. You could have been on Alias," he says. "You'd have been perfect for it."

The demo reel of Bob as sexy, head-kicking spy-boy played in my head, reminding me of my long-abandored fantasy carreer of CIA agent (with my cover being a college English professor).

"I can totally see you as the gadget guy."

Back in my auditioning days I had an casting director tell me "your're a hard one to type. You're not quite handsome enough to be the leading man, but not quite quirky enough to be the guy next door."

"You mean Marshall?" I asked ... questioning if my quirky quotient had multiplied over the past years.

"Yeah, you'd be spot on."

He's so fired.

March 17, 2004

They Might Be Giants

Iím cramped into a Lufthansa flight heading back to London. Hans Dieter Flug Attendant has just brought me the Diet Coke (Coca-Cola Light) I asked for.

Itís the tiniest little thing Ö a 0.15 liter can (what its that? Iím guessing about 5-6 ounces), about the size of a small juice can weíd get in the states. But I like way it feels in my hand.

I feel like Iíve been transported into Land of the Giants, and Iím one of the big people.

Maybe my new bar name should be Gulliver.

***

And as a follow-up to last night in Germamerica, I offer this telling table tent ...

I'll have a slice of so-not-right.

If It's Tuesday, It Must Be ...

New country, new continent, new time zone.

In a Marriott that could be anywhere in middle America, complete with double beds (ack), after a short but hot (as in stuffy, not stiffy) flight in ... coach. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

The big corporate dinner was in the hotel sports bar and consisted of a bowling-pin-bedecked table of chafing dishes filled with burgers, fries, fried mozzarella, and chicken wings. I thought I died and went to Cheers. Geez, all I wanted was a hot frankfurter. I'm not sayin' ...

Here's the deal. If I'm gonna be in a foreign country, I want it to at least seem a little different. Maybe like this, or perhaps this.

Oh well, another meeting in 7 hours.

Gute nacht.

March 16, 2004

Doing America Proud

Overheard on the tube last night:

Flirty American Chick: So where in Germany were you?

Cute American Brainless Boy: We were in Munich and Berlin. Munich was great, but Berlin was kinda dry. The only cool thing was that wall, what do you call it, um, the Great Wall. Yeah, the Great Wall of China?

FAC: Is that what it's called?

CABB: You know the wall that was knocked down awhile ago. I can't remember what it's called. The only other cool thing was this old house where they really made you feel like Anne Frank. But I liked Munich better. It rocked.

FAC: That's really cool. Have you been to Amsterdam? I think that's where Anne Frank lived.

CABB: Yeah, it was good too. Maybe that's where that house was. Oh yeah, it was the Berlin Wall. Great Wall of China, duh. We stayed in a hotel not too far from there.

FAC: Did you stay in hotels or hostels?

CABB: About half and half. We were in hostels 75% of the time and hotels 25% of the time.

The older English businessman sitting next to them just stared in disbelief. I chose not to speak, but was ready to turn on my finest Canadian accent if need be.

March 14, 2004

Give Me Some Fin

My favorite critters to see underwater are the turtles. They're so graceful, and, unlike their landlubber cousins, can really fly when they want to. Here are a couple shots of an adorable little hawkbill (his shell's about 2.5 feet long) we happened across on one of the last dives this week.


More pictures over the next week or so, but right now I have to get ready for the next leg of my March madness travels. Since I spent last week underseas, it's only fitting to spend next week overseas ... the London office beckons for Monday morning meetings, so I'll be sleeping on BA tonight.

One night in New York's all I can handle if I'm going to be spending it with the likes of these fine young men. They're all trouble. Each and every one of them.

March 12, 2004

Do You Belize?

Ambergris Caye is the most adorable little island. Especially given the fact that it's named after whale puke. Dusty dirt roads, people driving in golf carts, and some amazing diving ... especially along the walls way offshore. Eagle rays, turtles, nurse sharks that are cuddlier than my cats, and, ooof, the hottest boy in a red t-shirt here in Coconuts Internet cafe. I'd snorkel his reef.

Today's a no dive day; have to let all the nitrogen fizzle out of my alcohol system before we fly tomorrow. Embolisms are so last year.

I think I'll have some decent pictures to post once I get home and settled (which may not be for a couple weeks as I have a 20-hour layover in NY tomorrow and then head to Europe for a week's worth of work).

Thanks to Karen and Connie for filling in. Y'all keep up the good work for another week if you want ... or even better, get you're own blog. Very entertaining indeed.

Time to take a walk in the 80-degree sunshine and then have a massage with a lovely local island boy.

at the tone...

LEAVE THE MESSAGE!!!

Saying, "I have a question" or " I want to talk to you" is a given...you called....get it? I do. So, stop waisting your time and mine, and leave the information. That way (and I'll speak slowly), when we do speak, I will have already researched what you need, or taken care of any issue. This simple procedure could save both of us hours every week.


**note to self----retrain several clients on phone procedures**


Maybe I'm being too picky, i'll get back to you.

March 10, 2004

Footsy

On my commute home yesterday this rather sweet kid I work with embarked on one of his "I have a story about that" jags. He droned on and on about some friend of his sister's who he saw last Christmas and who looked exactly the same after ten years of not seeing her. Fascinating.

Mind you, four of us car pool in a Volkswagon Golf (a story in itself) and even someone breathing loudly after dozing off is enough to hold someone's attention until they're stopped. Did you know raisinettes fit nicely in most people's nostrils?

Anyhow, I tuned in and out of his rambling between looking for cute guys in other cars and was shocked into full attention when he revealed that this sister's friend lady has the most beautiful feet he's ever seen. His tone was oddly passionate and underscored with a scary sexuality I've never heard from him before: "The transition from her ankle to her foot is so beautifully proportioned and her arches are so pure..."

Yuck.

You must know that the mix in the car is half gay half straight and conversations, while often racy, NEVER digress into the personal realm. We fidgeted, opened windows, changed radio stations and finally diverted the conversation with a simple: "Who wants gum?!?!".

His confession did get me thinking though. I've always wondered what it is about feet that are so enticing for some people.

Me? I prefer to think of them as useful appliances that are meant to be covered and not particularly noticed unless they're snazzed up with a new pair of 14th street go-go boots.

For others though they present yet another category of sexual preference like leg man, boobie lover or abs afficionado. It's the foot folks' world I wouldn't mind stepping into for a moment to see what all the foot fuss is about (a fully intentional pun, by the way... how pedestrian of me).

I'm aware that there's a monthly meeting of the gay "Foot Friends" at a bar called the Eagle and can only wonder if the usual subculture hiearchy holds as true for this gang as it does for we more conventional gays.

For example, is the type of shoe worn indicative of one's socioeconomic class? Do lace colors and what side their worn on indicate the type of sexual activity one is interested in? Do the go-go boys dress opposite of the usual dancer set; clothes on, shoes off? If a patron is barefoot does that mean they're easy? Is the back room simply a dimly lit pedicure salon? Does size matter?

All pertinent questions, I think.

My goal in 2004 is to be more adventurous. That being said I am hereby promising myself that I will attend the next meeting of the gay Foot Friends and find out just what they're up to.

I figure if I employ my usual methods of attracting guys I should be in pretty good hands and perhaps take one step closer towards meeting Mr. Right ...and left, in this case.

I'll get my pump on at the gym, trim the beard, down a loosen-me-up cocktail and head over to the Eagle in my newest 14th St. foot fashions... a brand new pair of Partyland clown shoes.

On his Niece

Seven years ago I was minding my own business when it felt like a train hit me in the back of the head and came out of my cooch. We named her M.

To a seven year old girl, the world is a musical, the couch is a stage, a new dress for school turns you into a goddess, and parents are to be regarded merely as staff. I really like her. I told her today is her special day, she says,

"they all are"

that's my girl!

Can't wait to get outta here and bake her a cake.

March 9, 2004

No Diving

This saddened me.

I first saw Swimming to Cambodia in the huge attic rooms of a home in the Gardren District. Years later while viewing Gray's Anatomy, I spied in that movie an older version of the young man from the attic. Odd to catch up with T. through film.

March 8, 2004

The envelope please...

And the winner is......MAK (applause) who is the only one with the decency to offer drinks and drag queens. Finally, someone understands me. Now where were we?
Oh.
Yes.

A request for things to tease him about over drinks.....have you not seen his hair in "big" phase? Please, where is the challenge?

Something R rated, I trust you have more stories than I. Besides..he knows mine and I have offsping.

Speaking of which... Miss M has a birthday this week, and who knew 7 would be such a prissy age. I don't recall prissy until my early twenties. Sad- I know, but I made up for it. There was an accelerated course in it at Loyola N.O.

I'm off in search of Nancy, she should be here, to hear her laugh is to make you want to buy the bar a round.

Pass it on

This was sent to me by my dear friend, L.

http://www.hrc.org/millionformarriage/index.shtml

I liked it.

Sorry I'm late

My humble apologies. Mama has been laid up, and NOT in a good way.

So, here we are, babysitting the blog. Why me? I guess the most intriguing information I would have to share would be insight to your host. Might as well tell stories while he is out of town...any questions?

March 5, 2004

Speaking of Diving

Poor Martha ...


Reefer Madness

In less than 19 hours, we'll be ensconced on a plane, heading to a small island off the South Central (geography was never
my strong suit) American shore. I hope the Mayan Princess is ready for a boatload of queens.

It looks like I'm going to have to break one of my cardinal rules of going away and take work with me. I used to get so upset with L. when he'd take work on holiday, but the tables have turned. I'm overloaded and now understand you can't just always flip the switch and say "screw 'em, it will all have to wait."

Alas, it won't be too horrible ... just some writing and editing projects that I've fallen behind on during the past few weeks of neverending meetings.

The only meeting rooms I'll have to visit for the next week are on the reefs. And the fishies ... well they're not so clever with leaving voicemails, droning on incessantly about mindless and mind-numbing monotony, or sending last-minute requests for information that shouldn't have been asked for in the first place. All is well.

I got a new gadget to take with me (shocking), so maybe we'll have some fun pictures to share once I get back.

Back in NY next Saturday for a quick 2-hour layover (during which I'm very excited to meet him), then it's another fun week of "Where in the World is Bobzyeruncle?"

Not sure what Internet access is like down there, so I'll leave you in the capable and (we hope) witty hands of my sister Karen and her friend Nancy ... the happy midwestern moms who so graciously offered to pawn off let me spoil their darling children.

Now, where's my certification card?

March 4, 2004

If It's Thursday ....

My hair is getting bigger by the minute. There are drive-thru taco stands everywhere, 59 is still under construction (14 years later), and most the of the buildings have an aroma of mildewy air-conditioning.

Where in the world is Bob? Yep, you guessed it. Or did you?

No, I'm not here for the rodeo.

The PAICR conference was a huge success, and the past two days brand meetings down here with the sister company were great. I'm loving all the interaction and discussion ... now if I only had some time to do the "real work" that it leads up to. I'm think I'm becoming one of those people who likes to do the planning and idea generating, but then tosses off the implementing to someone else. Is that a bad thing?

Two days to Belize. Yay.

March 1, 2004

A.M.P.A.S Schmampas

Cyndi was amazing. The craps tables were fun, and a tad profitable, thankyouverymuch.

I'd write about the Oscars, but I'm just too damn bored. Maybe I was predisposed to not like the show this year, but honestly ... that was the least entertaining program I've ever watched. I should've stayed at the casino.

The conference I'm chairing starts in a little over 7 hours. Wish me luck.