Home is Where the Airplane Lands
Delta web fares are our friend. 'Twas Mom's birthday over the weekend and so I jumped a cheap jet to the Queen City. Played good son and took her out to dinner. Played
Auntie Mame extra good uncle and bought Skyline Chili and clothes and toys and got to be jumped on and hugged and loved all weekend. Gorgeous, but exhausting.
Only downside was i got to spend hardly any time with my sister, which was a disappointment, but I've got her booked for solo time later this year. Those kids are a handful ... and you have to feed them, I'm told, 2-3 times a day. Every day. Crazy.
I returned to
the police state NY this afternoon, in time to go to the dentist (no cavities but a periodontal referral, yay me) and drop into Tek Serve for an impulse purchase. I can't get it to register on my existing wireless network. So. Aggrivating.
Admitting defeat, I did a trifling of work and then we went down 8th Ave for drinks and dinner. Amazing to watch the "closed" street teem with cops on bikes, cops on scooters, undercover cops on scooters, MTA buses converted into Police Buses, yellow cabs that are really undercover police cars (very clever, who knew?), and, d'accord, 18 kajillion of NY's finest hanging on baracades, smoking cigarettes, and chatting on cell phones. I know they're here to protect (and
service serve), heaven forbid anything should happen, but it's kinda overkill, eh? And where are the cute ones?
Four days and I'm back in Ptown.
Fourteen days and I'm a year older.
August 27, 2004
I Guess they Like Me
I just found out I was made Associate Partner at work.
August 26, 2004
And Now I Know
I've just completed my mandatory diversity training for managers ... Working People -- Workplace Diversity, Manager Edition.
It was both inspriational and insightful. Things I've learned include:
One shouldn't ask the Indian janitor if he's washing his feet in the sink of the mens room.
Throwing a luau, complete with roasted pig and hula dancers, on Yom Kippur is not a good idea. There should be male strippers as well.
Pretty latin women can be just as good at selling product as bloviated white men (speaking of Republicans, who's here next week?)
Just because someone's a mean, racist, sexist, bloviated old dinosaur doesn't mean you can write about him on work email. Republicans have feelings too, apparently.
It's poor form to evaluate your employees based on their fashion sense or choice of haircut. But it's okay to fire them for that, right?
Evidently, it's not proper to hire people just becasue you know them and they're good at team sports. Seems obvious to me ... I'd hire the gymast who I didn't know in order to get to know him better. "You want that sign-on bonus or don't you?"
Glass ceilings are bad, unless your office is under the men's shower room.
Nope, not Big Brother (bye Natalie, have fun in the sequester house with Will) ... but Last Thursday at 7 Before Bush.
As summer winds to a close, not only do we go back to school, but we reinstate LT7. As we head into our 3rd season, I'll be passing the proverbial organizaitonal torch in the next couple months ... so come on out and help me choose the next bearer of tradition. It's kinda like being a secretary, but with the power to choose a venue.
And who knows, if the city gets blown up next week, it'll be the last NY LT7. How could you possibly miss that?
Tonight's adventure begins at
157 W 24th Street
See you there.
August 25, 2004
Life is a Banquet
And I am an overeater.
Did I really need to stay at work till 10pm last night and then end up doing a P-town post-mortem with him till beyond 2 in the morning?
For all my good words last night, it won't mean anything until I start walking the talk. It's like rolling out our new brand values in the company and getting senior management to embody the values ... "nobody's going to believe this is the brand until they see you living them," we told them in a workshop. "Bullet points on paper don't build a brand. Change comes from action. What actions can you take so people see this is how we're running the company?"
Maybe I need to rebrand myself.
Or perhaps just a new tattoo?
Anyway I had a lovely time ... and, thanks to him, I now know a gem of place in New York that I had no idea exsited.
Bailey, come home. Something's happened to the baby.
August 24, 2004
Back to School
It's starting to get darker earlier. The nights seem cooler. It's time to get some fresh new clothes, a couple new notebooks, a fresh set of pens and get back into the swing of things. Maybe a new lunchbox or backpack.
There is so much change going on around me right now that it's dizzying. All of it's good ... some of it is completely amazing, some of it a little scary. I've been dealing with it all in a rather laissez-faire manner, but lately I'm starting think that I'm just getting plain lazy. I know I'm getting things done, but I think I could be doing better.
I feel like I've been drifting a bit, perhaps sitting back and taking it all in too much. It's good to enjoy the ride, but sometimes you need to steer a little bit.
And so, I need to either make my rudder a little bigger or set a more specific course or something, before I get sucked into the whirlpool and drown in my own metaphor.
It's time to put down some goals ... don't know if they'll be here online or in some crisp, uncluttered new spiral binder, but I need to make sure I've got some direction in the next few months. It's time to make a clearer path, to eliminate some of the distractions that the old A.D.D. thrives on, but also keep me from feeling like I've accomplished anything at the end of the
day week month.
I remember hearing something a long time ago about delayed gratification. Please, instant gratification takes too long.
Maybe it's all this talk of following one's bliss ... but you have to know what your bliss is if you're going to follow it.
Maybe it's all this talk of destiny ... okay, so the destiny talk hasn't made it to the blog, but I'm sure it will in time. Is there such a thing as destiny? Can you change your destiny? If you can change it, then is it really destiny? Clearly I have too much time to think.
Maybe it's that I know a lot of the changes that are coming, and if I don't start managing my own world, then my world is going to be managed for me. Don't get me wrong, I'm fine with giving up some control ... as long as it's on my terms. (I think I read that in Philth's new textbook, Power Bottom to Power Broker)
So it's time to start asking some questions ...
* What do I really have my sights set on? What's the prize?
* What do I need to do to get there?
* What am I doing that could keep me from getting there?
* What's going to happen if I don't start to get my focus back and do what I need to get to those goals? The ride's not nearly as fun when you're wrecked on the side of the river and everyone else is racing on by.
Maybe it's the end of summer. Maybe it's my birthday looming just around the bend (9/13, thanks for asking). Maybe I'm getting a jump on Mercury coming out of retrograde.
Or maybe it's just time to get engaged, get in the game, and build a little Bob-mentum.
Isn't it fun when your therapist goes on vacation and you get to do all this on your own?
August 23, 2004
The Kindness of Strangers
We were on the Eagle's roof deck last night, enjoying a cold draft , a cool breeze, and several refreshing views, when a guy came up to me with a tentative look on his face. I figured he was going to ask for a cigarette or a light or something.
"Excuse me, " he said and I reached inside my pocket for the Marlboro Lights (I only have them for such enabling occiasions, to be social).
"Did you used to live in New Orleans?"
I said yes, about a hundred years ago.
"Did you used to hang out at the Bourbon Pub?"
Well, who didn't? "Um, yeah, but it was really a long time ago. My name's Bob," I said, leaving the smokes in my pocket and holding out my hand.
"I know, I remember. I'm A ... we met around 1985," and we shake hands. I introduce him to Larry, and he says, "Do you know why I recognize you?"
I My friends bought drugs from you? We worked together? We had mutual friends? A litany of possiblities ran through my head, although no bells were ringing.
"Sorry, I don't."
Seems he was at the Pub one night and we started talking. He was married at the time (Bob talking to a married man in New Orleans gay bar in 1985? Not so totally out of the realm of possibility), but had some psycho boyfriend who was causing him trouble (again, not really a surprise in the French Quarter).
Evidently, said psycho came into the bar that night, all loaded up on something and started becoming abusive and I "got into a fight with him" to get him leave A. alone.
"Yes, it was the first time anybody had ever fought for me, and I've never forgotten. You still look the same ... maybe a little grayer (gee, thanks), but I totally recognize your face. You called me a couple times after and I moved not long after that. I just wanted to say thank you and it's good to see you."
Hmmm, another one who's following his bliss. When it rains it pours.
Turns out I didn't actually get into a physical fight (shocking), but got all up in psycho's face, gave him a good loud cussing out and sent him packing. Ah, the bravery of youth, no doubt fueled by a lot of vodka, and the knowledge that I knew most of the bartenders (it pays to be a regular).
The whole situation seems like it could be a memory, but a fuzzy one at best.
So now, almost a two decades later, he wants to pay back my galantry. And, I can get on the guest list for a Tuesday night party in Astoria or a monthly gay Arabic dance party.
Ah, the beer blast at the Eagle ... you never know what you'll find.
August 22, 2004
A friend of mine gave up almost everything a year ago to follow his dream. He's in his mid-30s and left his friends, his family, his 12-year career, his financial security, and his home to live in a new country, learn a new language, and enjoy a lifestlye he'd dreamed about for as long as he could remember.
"I don't have any money now, and I have a dead-end job, but I'm happy," he told me.
I asked him if he had any regrets ... trading in almost everything to start all over again.
"Only one," he said. "That I didn't do it sooner."
He's inspired me, but I don't know that I could do what he's done.
What would you give up to find your happiness?
Just Here to Help
We were at g on Friday night, enjoying a post-run, pre-dinner cocktail. I was at the bar, ordering a round and noticed a handsome Asian man talking to Larry.
"Who was your friend?" I asked, handing him his margarita after he returned from the washroom.
Turns out the guy had taped Larry on the shoulder. "I thought he was coming on to me," Larry said. Instead, he leaned in an said, "Your hair's a little messy in the back. You might want to comb it."
Larry, who has been known to suffer the woes of the cowlick for years now, thanked him kindly and turned away, waiting for delivery of drinks.
But Asian boy didnt't let up. "There's a bathroom right back there," he said, indicating the back of the bar.
All in all, I guess it's a nice thing. Normally when I see someone with bad hair, I just mock them behind their back.
I used to hang out with a hairdresser who'd go up to people, hand him his card, and say, "I'm a trained professional, I can help you."
Which is better ... silently judging or politely pointing out a stranger's flaws?
August 20, 2004
I was walking down 44th Street around lunchtime this afternoon, on my way back to the office. There was a midwesternish family walking towards the
tube subway and one of them said with great enthusiasm, "I've been drinking and I'm going to ride the subway."
Gotta love those New York tourists ... living on the edge.
August 19, 2004
Remember when she used the umbrella to mete out social injustice? She was my hero that day (actually, she's my hero on many days).
In the meantime, I'm thinking of heading to the bank to get his bail money in order.
More on heroes later ... but right now the Lexapro and Adderall have kicked in and I've got at least a week's worth of work to start catching up on.
August 18, 2004
The only bad thing about Provincetown is leaving.
I'm siting in the office, trying to focus on work and all I want to do is go back to the beach, or wander Commercial Street, or ride my bike through the dunes. Just hang out with good people and no worries.
Tomorrow's the parade for Carnival. Maybe I should go back.
One of the best parts of the week was seeing it through fresh eyes. Hanging out with Ptown virgins (as well as those who lost their Cape Cod cherry
eons awhile ago) really makes one appreciate all the simple pleasures it has to offer. Geez, Old Cape Cod and Friends in my head this afternoon. It's a regular Bette Midler concert.
Okay then, where's a corporate America virgin for me to hang out with so I can appreciate the simple pleasures of all this nonsense?
This responsibility thing is highly overrated.
August 13, 2004
I Don't Give a F*ck No More ...
As if Ptown could get any better, they played a dance remix of I Just Wanna Dance last night.
think am fairly certain the boy working at Cyber Cove wants to kiss me ... Príncipe has just named him Justin, as in Justin My Brazilian Shorts )
Tea dance beckons ... blogging can wait.
But first some updates ... I wasn't here 24 hours and I uncovered lesbian drama. No wait ... that's not news.
News is that Príncipe came here with me and he gets here soon. The Cape may never be the same.
Missing you, d'accord.
Oh, turns out Justin's real name is Joey.
August 11, 2004
On the voicemail this morning ... "Hi, this is Information Infrastructure." (when did they upgrade from Infromation Technology??) "Due to network upgrades last night, please make certain to reboot your computers this morning."
They've blocked Jodi? That's taking things one step too far. I'm working from home from now on.
And two people have sent me this link today ... just what is the connection between Bob and cannibalism?
More than ninety minutes after the plane lands, he walks into the passenger pickup area.
"We don't treat people this way in Brazil."
Rest assured, security levels are heightened and no unwanted gay Brazilian terrorists will make their way into Newark this week.
He's in UK on a student visa from Brazil. On the spur of the moment, he decides to fly to the US, and procures a ticket the day before his flight. Two small carry on bags.
Hello red flags ...
"Why are you coming to Amercica?"
"Why is there no stamp on your passport from the last time you left Brazil?"
"When was the last time you were here?"
"How do you make money in the UK?"
"Who are you coming to visit?"
"And how long have you known *him*?"
"Where did you meet?"
"Do you have a phone number for him?"
And finally, the in the third interrogation room, with the third Immigration Officer, "You've only known this *guy* a week and you're coming to New York to see him? That's crazy. Why would you do that?"
Because I miss him.
Apparently that did the trick.
I asked if anyone was mean to him, or just the usual barrage (speaking of, 7ish tonight) of questions over and over. "Just a bunch of stupid questions. But the last guy was good looking."
I'm a little concerned that where ever we were last night, there were unmarked black cars and men with earpieces casually *not* watching us. Then again, it's like being in an Alias episode.
And more importantly, should I send Chi Chi La Rue a treatment for the movie?
August 10, 2004
I Believe I Can Fly
I want to do this.
Larry's flown to London and is settling into work there for the rest of the week. I just got off the phone with him, dictating a shortlist of neighborhoods to explore. If any of you London lads are reading and wish to welcome him to
our new hometown the UK, give a shout and I'll send you his contact info. And keep him out of CXR. He's a classy one.
The vacation boy has opted for New York over Athens and arrives later today. Your votes do count. Remember that in November.
Plans for the rest of the week are still in the air, but there will definitely be time off from work. Yay.
After the ex left, the bartender came over and said, "Talk about your six degrees of separation."
Actually, sweetie, that was only two degrees. I hate it when they can't count.
August 8, 2004
And Here Comes Monday
Slowly settling back into Real World NYC after the London trip. Nurtured my inner gadget-boy over the weekend, and bought/installed wi-fi and a web cam (how did I not have one before). Also replaced the dying phones with a 5.8 GHz upgrade.
It was downright autumnal on Fridayt, which I loved. I don't know if it was the weather or the weekend, but the Eagle was a tad on the quiet side. It was AARP discount night, so he invited me to take advantage of our discount. And a lovely evening it was. Met Aaron (who documented the evening with a very cool album cover photo) and Jonno. Good times indeed.
Larry's off to London tomorrow, and my week's kind of up in the air. Lots of work, but perhaps a few days in Ptown as well. And maybe entertaining a visitor from across the pond, depending on his choice of holiday logistics.
Either way, I need some time off. I hear Barcelona is nice ....
Faster than a Speeding Bullet
Found this on my camera, from the trip on the Eurostar last month.
Faster than a speeding bullet.
August 6, 2004
My Schadenfreude Cup Runneth Over
I thought Jase's head was going explode last night.
"I just want to make good television," he told she-who-can't-cover-her-shoulders. Screw you, psycho ... apparently CBS (or at least Mr. Shapiro) is just a little more clever than you.
And Gaggage is out and never saw it coming. Tee hee.
So. Totally. Fetch.
Now, if the girls were smart, we'd see the following scenario play out.
Jennifer puts Natalie and Karen up.
for PoV competition:
Natalie selects Adria
Karen selects Will
Jennifer selects Diane
Whoever wins PoV takes somebody off.
Jennifer puts up Jase
Bye bye psycho.
August 5, 2004
Home is Where the Housekeeper Is
It seems that there are two ways to get through security at Heathrow:
Apparently I should have gone the on-my-knees route, as we sat forever on the tarmac, waiting for "the flight plan to be approved by a computer in Belgium." Ah, yes ... nothing like a 90-minute delay, sitting next to a way-too-chatty man ("how's that iPod work?", "is your Blackberry wi-fi?", "what's the point of having to pay extra to stand somewhere to get a network connection?") who'd never flown buisness before (that's from a place of observation, not judgment) and played with every button 20 times till he figured it all out.
So now I'm back, walking through this to get to work ...
rather than this ...
As nice as it is to be home, I missed my stylish shower ...
this morning. And I certainly hope housekeeping comes to tidy up the room while I'm at work. I got awfully used to that service at my home away from home.
And a final question for all my IT friends out there ... don't you have anything better to do than this?
I mean I could understand if there were no network issues, all the servers were properly backed up, and the databases all ran without a glitch. But in the meantime ... focus on getting the back office working, not what we're looking at in our
going down time.
Yeah sure, we know I'm a fan of Big Brother, but only when it's on CBS (say goodbye,
Savage dickless Scott) or BBC (who will be the winner on Friday night?).
August 4, 2004
As the Wind Begins to Blow
I think it's time to pull out my umbrella and fly on home. But first, a few pictures before I womble off. For as crappy as the week started, I've gotten a lot done and had the most amazing trip. And, of course, there's still piles of things to get done. Move or not, I'll be back soon.
As always, the Ben introduced me to some lovely new friends. She does look like Claire Fisher, right?
Had a couple celeb sighting while I was here. David Hasselhof was wandering Soho (no camera then). And gosh, Elaine Page is really showing her age.
I usually hate pictues of me ... like this one where I was caught singing a Chinese song in the "wrong key". Had a couple drinks with Prínicpe last night, who was playing with my camera and snapped this.
I told him that normally I don't think I look good in pictures to which he replied in his charming Brazilian accent, "Noooo, your are very handsome ... in this picture. But I am a good photographer and you have a really nice camera."
And he says his English needs improving.
What's Portuguese for sassy?
August 3, 2004
Drinking with the U.N.
So we're standing outside The Yard on Sunday night taking in the post-Soho Pride aftermath. It was a free night of open containers and drinks to
go take away from the bars. For one night only, London was magicially transformed into the French Quarter.
I was hanging out with 2 Australians, a Kiwi, a boy from one of the slavic countries (perhaps a small fishing village wedged between Estonia and Lativa, who can remember?), and a sole Londoner. My favorite South African ambled by as well. Later that night I danced with a fabulous lesbian couple (one from the Upper East Side and the other from Mississipi) and a Brazilian prince with a smile almost as enchanting as the booty he was shaking.
There was also the little Chinese lad who thought that a bathroom stall was a good place to have sex, but I passed on that. I'm happy to kiss a cute boy in line at the loo, but he has to come up with a better line than "prease dlop tlousers and glab you ankres" when he opened the door to the stall. Bless him, he was all of 5 feet ... what was he going to do, stand on the toilet?
Ah yes, Britain is so civilised.
Are there no English people here?
August 2, 2004
Some Girls Always Get What they Wanna Wanna
I was introduced to yet another Brit pop icon this weekend. Ben, his tall, glamorous, slender, ginger-haired Ozzie friend
Nicole Rus (with cousin Regan and sister Claire Fisher Anna* in tow) headed over to G-A-Y on Saturday night where we saw Samantha Rachel Stevens perform.
It was, in fact, bewitching.
I was not familar with her, nor her big hits Some Girls and Sweet Dreams My L.A. Ex (which while it sounds like the airport, it's really about the person from Los Angeles who she broke up with -- get it? -- so clever these pop stars). But apparenly *everyone* in London knows the choreography.
Several parts of the show amazed me. First was the presentation. She came out with her highlighted locks all pulled into a bun on the side of her head. And whe was wearing what can only be described as sequined, black, granny underpants (you know, the really big ones) an d a fringed black halter top. Adriana is not dead y'all, she's alive and peforming pop music in the UK. Trust.
She was wearing the requisite head set, natch, and her breath control was amazing. Dancing, singing, it was all there. She sang My L.A. Ex, and then a couple of covers, and then Some Girls (where she invited the audience to join along in the "routine"). Oh, and an encore of My L.A. Ex. Five songs. No muss, no fuss, no vocal strain.
Let me tell you, Miss Girl can
sing lip synch. Move over Britney. The best part was, in between songs, they'd turn her mike back on so she could banter with the crowd, and it sounded like an over-amplified obscene phone call.
"Thank *wheeze* you G-A- *gasp* Y. We *pant* love you."
Thank goodness the Three Little Pigs weren't in the house ... all that huffing and puffing would have sent them right into post-traumatic stress tizzy.
And, bonus, the DJ played Reach right after she left, which sent everyone into pop heaven. Anna taught me the choreography (which was more camp than a row of pink tents) and I later learned that Ms. Stevens herself used to be in S Club 7, the band that sang Reach. I have so much pop music culture to absorb if we move here.
I don't even know which Spice Girl is which. The horror.
BTW, I saw my a new favorite t-shirt ...
Stay in School -- You're Too Ugly to be a Whore
* Young Anna (who's one of my new most favorite people and deserves her own entry, if not blog), does in fact look like a young Lauren Ambose, but with bangs. I have pictures ... but no cable to download.