Thinking on a Thursday
Oh well. Another rejection today. Seems things are drying up on the job front. But hopefully not nearly as bad as my (once) beautiful houseplant. What happened?
I've only had this a couple months and it was so lush ... strong green leaves with purple shoots. Seems the cat thought it looked lovely as well. Apparently Gypsy doesn't get enough greens in her Eukenuba. Or maybe it went to last night's Madonna show in NYC. I hear it was a veritable steam bath. I think it's incredulous ... you pay your right nut to go see a show and then the diva says "I don't care for the air, or my fan's comfort."
But back to my sad houseplant. I've never had much of a green finger. Maybe I should stick to cactii. I've got one up in my "writer's loft" / "job search oasis" that's doing very well.
Speaking of fingers, I'm totally captivated by this:
It's like one of the Bronte sisters dropped acid.
Speaking of dropping acid ... naah, there's no need to go there today.
So, about the job thing. I'm still not too fussed about the rejections. Maybe I should be? I'm starting to look at it as if I were auditioning way back when. You have to get at least 20 'no's before a 'yes' comes along. Maybe it's the Lexapro, maybe it's just knowing that it takes time for the right one to come along. Maybe it's still trying to figure out what the right one will be.
Speaking of the right one, yesterday was the 14-year mark for me and Larry. Who'd have ever thought he'd put up with me this long (or vice versa)?
June 28, 2006
Hello, Diabetes? I'll be right there ...
Ah, milk chocolate digestives. Could there be anything better?
Actually, yes. They're called Chocolate Hob Nobs, and the packet is almost empty. I may have to leave the house. Don't you love that the web page implies there's something healhy about them?
No, I'm not sitting at home, surfing the web and eating bon bons. I'm reading modern literature, hoping I'm not going to be whisked away and placed in an asylum. You never know.
And those gold-wrapped nuggets of joy on the table are called Ferrro Rochers. I don't see the word(s) bon bon anywhere.
June 27, 2006
She's in the Tardis (but not for long)
While not really searching for the British love child of Debbie Gibson and Tiffany, I am looking for a venue to watch Brazil v. Ghana this afternoon. Any suggestions?
June 26, 2006
It's Not What You Know ...
I thought the Brits were supposed to be smarter than us Yanks. Or maybe I just get that impression from the occasional air of the erudite that wafts my way.
Alas, I've seen evidence to the contrary the past few days.
Case in point -- I was in the newly remodeled Fourbuck's on Edgeware Road this morning. BTW, there's a blonde construction worker there who totally wants to kiss me (and he would have if he'd not been flanked by his colleagues), but I digress. There's a clearance bin on mugs in the back, with a sign saying something to the effect of "Show your UK PRIDE with our beautiful CITY mugs!"
The mugs are for Northern Ireland and Wales. Now, I'm the first to admit I'm no star at earning blue pie pieces in Trivial Pursuit (Genus edition), but seems to me that the good folk in Cardiff and Belfast might be able to teach the fair-trade signmakers a thing or two.
Then again, I did BBLB's video tape yesterday of lovley Aisleyne who, when asked "who is the youngest of the Beatles?", replied in all sincerity ... "Bono."
Her Royal Majesty weeps.
June 25, 2006
How good of an edit did Mikey get tonight? First, he and Pete imitating each other in the diary room, and then him playing nursemaid to poor puking Glyn.
All bless Planky. We'll turn on him again soon enough.
Mexico Loses, Que Lastima
We stayed home last night to watch the football. Argentina v. Brazil. Kinda like Latin porn, but with clothes on ... for the most part.
The good thing about staying home for the game is that nobody objects to poppers and lube while, erm, watching the game. Is that so wrong?
Everybody wave goodbye to Mexico's adorable goalie, Oswaldo Sanchez. Sorry to see you go.
June 23, 2006
Ain't No Other Drag
Just saw Skankalera's new video. Is it just me or does she look like a drag queen doing Gwen Stefani?
June 22, 2006
Did you ever have a little fling with someone, and then after awhile it runs its course and, while you still have fond memories, you know the sparks have passed?
And then, a year or so later, you meet up and fall in love all over again?
That's what happened to me on Tuesday night.
I'm in love with Avenue Q again. Now if only I can figure out a way to have committed 3-way relationship with it and The Drowsy Chaperone.
The casting is great. Jon Robyns (Rod/Princeon) and Simon Lipkin (Trekkie Monster/Nicky) are both adorable, and the girl playing Kate is lovely (Julie Atherton) is perfect. I also got the chance to chat up Composer/Lyricist Jeff Marx, who is charming.
The changes to UKify it are very minor (nightstands become knights stand, Long Island Ice Teas become Absinthe Daquiris, Gary Coleman gets some new explanatory lyrics) and all work just fine.
I think I'll probably have to go see it again, at least until Chaperone opens over here.
June 19, 2006
It's Just Two Hours Too Long
We saw Showboat yesterday.
I see you shaking your head in disbelief, but I assure you there are two perfectly good reasons:
1. It was at Royal Albert Hall and I'd never been there before.
2. The always lovely Regan has access to a box there, and she offered us tickets.
I must say, R's box provides very comfortable accomodation ... for four grown men! And the hall is really spectacular. The staging was ... well, I think it was meant to be spectacular.
This production is in the round. Which means, basically, that they performed in on a stage about the size of a hockey rink. Imagine the Ice Capades, but without the ice, or the skaters. There were, however, lots of chorus members ... I counted at least 55 people on stage at one point. And it didn't look overcrowded.
It really did seem more like a circus than a show ... but wait, that's Evita, right?
And as much as Showboat tries to dispell being racist (if you drink blood from a cut on your mulatto wife's hand, that makes you a Negro too!), it really can't help itself. After all, everyone's a little bit racist.
No wait. That's in another show. Which we're seeing tomorrow night.
I hope it translates well. And if it doesn't, well, it's only for now.
June 18, 2006
Antarctica? Oh Please ...
Here are the countries I've visited.
Looks like I've got some work to do, or at least go on a Eurovision tour. According to this, I've visited only 13% of the world's countries.
Where should I go next?
June 17, 2006
June 16, 2006
Billie Pipes Down
A few weeks ago, Rose Tyler's ex-boyfriend decided to remain in a parallel universe (with a cute, gay freedom fighter .. hmmm). She was never to see him again. She moaned and pulled faces, but shed not one real tear.
Last week, the Doctor was supposedly gone forever. No secret that she's in love with him, she moaned and pulled faces, but shed not one real tear.
Let's face it kids, Billie Piper couldn't act her way out of a wet paper bag. She couldn't act hot if she were on fire.
Although, as he will agree, she was pretty funny when Cassandra inhabited her body ... "Oh my god, I'm a chav!"
Anyway, so long Billie. Enjoy your gap year.
And speaking of moaning and pulling faces, maybe Nikki will be the Doctor's new companion.
Can't you just see her, arms flailing, "I HATE these aliens. HATE them, do you hear me?? There's no bot-tled water on this planet!"
At least we've seen some real tears from her. And they will be tears of joy tonight. See You Next Tuesday, Grace.
But wait, back to Doctor Who ... rather than Nikki, I think the next travelling companion for the Doctor should be Vince, from the UK version of Queer as Folk. It would be brilliant cross-over writing for Russell Davies. Vince could travel the universe with his hero, and maybe finally get over Stuart. And, interestly, Vince's last name is Tyler ... same as Rose. Hmmm ... maybe Russell has been planning this all along.
Lee, see what you can do.
June 14, 2006
Tattooed Record Boys
Remember Ron, the guy from grade school who I met on the plane coming back from Milan? He recently sent me some pictures which have introduced me to my new boyfriend.
That's cute little Ron on the left, keeping Eric Himan, *sigh*, company at Long Beach Pride a couple weeks ago. He's a singer/songwriter and is playing various venues around the States this summer. Hope he comes here soon.
Ron's also recommeded Levi Kreis for a listen. Seems Levi and Eric were (are?) touring together. The tracks I've found are really easy on the ears. Nice and soothing on a post-marathon, rainy day. (Yes, I'm still talking about the marathon ... when I can walk down stairs again, I'll shut up.)
In other news, I'm pleased to report my favorite mad Irishman, Derek, has joined the blog fray with Valley of The Trolley Dolleys. Give him a read, he'll be sure to entertain.
I am so looking forward to some post-potable posting from him. I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'.
June 13, 2006
Ah, the day after the day after. After a really hard workout, it's the 2nd day when I really feel the Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness.
I'm not surprised that my calves, quads and hamstrings are a little tight. It's my upper back, abs and obliques that I'm sorely aware of today.
And I can't stop eating ... or wanting to nap.
Here's an unflattering shot from the camera phone. I wanted to go to the top of Arthur's Seat (the hill behind me), but we'll save that for then next trip.
I think rather than putting the URL on the back of my shirt, I should have written "Does this blouse make me look fat?"
June 12, 2006
Twenty Six Point Two ... Whoo Hooooo
I haven't talked much about the Edinburgh trip lately. Mostly because I've been a bit lax on my training and wasn't really sure that I'd be able to do the run. Each time I'd think about it last week I'd flashback to junior high school gym class. We were doing track work one day (50 or 100 yard dashes) and, running at my top speed, I tripped over my own feet and banged myself up pretty badly. Never the most coordinated or athletic of tall, gangly boys, it pretty much turned me off the track and field events. I was, however, a very good junior bowler.
I really don't know why I blew off the training. But I guess that's journal/therapy grist for a different mill.
Anyway, I arrived Friday in foggy Edinburgh (I love a good harr) with more than a few marathon misgivings. Once I got to the Expo and picked up my bib and goodie bag, I was psyched. By Sunday morning, most of my dread had returned, slightly diluted the excitement of the day. I kept trying to visualize an easy-paced, lovely run through a magical city. Unfortunately, those visualizations were interrupted by images of blown knees, torn tendons, and embarrassing taxi rides back from somewhere a long way from the finish line.
I'd long given up hopes of my 4.5 hour finish. As of about 3 weeks ago, I was now running for Team Lexapro and my goal was to just do my best and try to get through the entire 26.2 miles. And, in a personal non-best of what is now three marathons, I did in fact finish. 5 hours 26 minutes. So yay me.
Most of the race is kind of hazy. It's amazing how you just lose track of time and keep plodding forward. I think at some point my brain kind of shut down, thanks to either endorphins or trauma.
I do remember the pre-race, and attempting to bribe the ambulance drivers. My sister taught me a long time ago (not long after her first pregnancy) to grease the palm of your anesthesiologist. So I handed a few EMTs a tenner, asking them to keep an eye out for me after mile 10. You never know when you'll need an epidural. Or a gurney.
Actually, the first 20 miles were relatively easy. I did the trusted walk break method, having a 1-minute stroll at each mile marker. The weather, while a little warm, was really beautiful and running along the sea was amazing. The crowd was sparse compared to DC and Chicago, but what they lacked in numbers they made up for in enthusiasm. I did the "desperately seeking encouragement" trick of putting my name on the front of my shirt. I'd never done that before and I have to say it helps to have people cheering you on by name, even though they don't know you from Adam. Also put the addy for this site on the back of my shirt, and I've noticed some new hits from Scotland, so hi to anybody who's checking in on me post-marathon. I guess it does pay to advertise.
Surprisingly, I made it 16 miles before I turned on the iPod. The Drowsy Chaperone got me through miles 16-20. I laughed out loud a few times which, I suppose, was better than jogging to the side of the road and throwing up. Bless that poor guy. In a bit of schadenfreude, knowing I was doing better than than him got me through at least another mile. I suppose he was a little bit worse off than the guy I passed at mile 17 who could barely stretch his legs. When he stood up, his shirt was covered in two huge spots of blood where his nipples had been worn raw. Ouch. And just under 10 miles to go.
Marathoning ... it's so pretty at the back of the pack.
I found the ubiquitous wall around mile 20, which was just about when we were running along the beach. People were laying out on the sand, eating ice cream and frolicking in the surf. I'm sure that water was wicked cold, but it looked soooo inviting. I seriously thought about just calling it a day.
Alas, with only a 10k to go I figured I might as well finish, and if I had to walk for a good part of it, then so be it. Pink urged me along , and (A Long Way to Happy was never more appropriate. 1-minute walk breaks turned into 1-minute run breaks. I knew that the finish line would show up eventually, and with heavy sponsorship from Aleve, I was in no hurry to get there. Do analgesics count as doping?
But get there I did, and I didn't need that wheelchair after all. I got my medal and my banana (not a euphamism), but sadly no silver foil superhero cape. I'm glad to have finished, don't really give a toss about my time, and I'm sure I'll be able to walk down stairs by the end of the week.
And, by the way, I love Edinburgh. I can't wait to go back when I have the time, energy, and leg strength to take in the city properly.
June 8, 2006
In honor of tomororow's World Cup kick-off, a little nod to our hosts in Germany ...
June 7, 2006
Things Not to Ask on an Interview
I had an interview today. Actually, it was a meeting with a headhunter who has already set me up on 2 interviews with one of her clients. So it was really a due dilligence meeting, after the fact. You'd think they'd want to screen you before they sent you out, but whatever.
It went swimmingly. Apparently the client's had a rigorous CV screening process and not many people made it to actual interviews. She'd ask me a question, I'd answer and then she'd cut me off and tell me what she thought.
My biggest question of the interview remained unspoken. There was a certain incongruity about her, and my eyes kept darting from her remarkably taut, crease-free, over-powdered visage to her wrinkled, liver-spotted hands. I'm sure she thought I was admiring her rings, but really it was "just how many facelifts have you had?"
June 6, 2006
As We Stumble Along
The car is coming at 4:30 in the morning to take me to the airport. Not only is that obscene, it's about 4.25 hours from now. In the good old days, I'd just stay up. Oh how the mighty have grown old and tired.
And oh how the clientelle at Barracuda has grown young and nubile.
What an amazing long weekend. I saw the best theater. I laughed until I hyperventilated. I got the most fetch ass licker underpants ever. I had unexpected drinks on the "hurry it's lovely up here" roof deck in Brooklyn. I went to Princeton. I found the most comfortable sofa bed in Queens got blown very gently (by the wind, thank you) while I slept. I saw brave cabaret. I didn't have to have my stomach pumped, not even once. I learned that Anna-Nicole was pregnant by some guy. The list goes on and on.
All in, it's been a rousing success. Maybe I'll type up some details in the sky tomorrow.
I have a new job in London when I get back. I'm starting a campaign to bring "The Drowsy Chaperone" over. And I want to be the man in the chair.
But right now, I'm having a final cocktail (who puts an olive in a gimlet?) with my most gracious host, and I believe it will make me ... (wait for it) ... drowsy.
June 3, 2006
The Morning After
Isn't it adorable when people drunk blog and then erase it first thing in the morning? I'm far too discreet to name names, but if I moved back to a certain city ... *sigh*.
Imagine my shock when MAK and I decided to just have the one and then ended up closing the place.
Allegedly we're drinking more tonight.
June 2, 2006
It's Not the Heat
It's the humidity. 83% at 7:30 am.
As the wicked witch once wailed, "I'm meltiiinnnnnggg."
But it's a small price to pay for the fun I'm having. TBTB (too busy to blog).
The new Apple store is so not all that. I really don't see the apeel.
Ba dum dah.
June 1, 2006
Home is Where the Vodka Is
When we last left our hero, his words were "see you on the other side."
Well, here I am on the other side.
I love airplanes. Just cram yourself into a tube of tin, subject yourself to the screaming sirens of tantrum-tossing toddlers, try to read a book and then presto magic ... you're in another country.
I like being in new countries ... the people just seem different, the money is odd, the taxi cabs each have their own custom. Sometimes it's nice to know the language, and my 3 or 4 years of Spanish are really paying off here in the warmer climes. Plus, there's a smattering of english so if I need to say something more that "cerveza" or "margarita" or "enchiladas suizas, por favor", I can get by.
Me amo Nueva York.
So, yeah, here I am back in my home away from home away from home. My home once-removed? What is my relationship with this city now?
Anyway, seeing a bunch of shows, hanging out with old friends and playing the "sofa bed" game ... as is, "so, fa bed, what is I have to do?" The comedy writing course is coming along swimmingly, thanks very much. I'm here all week. Try the veal.
Tonight will be History Boys. Tomorrow is GB:NY3 and then a going-away do for Stephen and Hugh, who are
retiring relocating to Fort Meyers. My only question is ... who in their 30s moves to Fort Myers? I hear they are opening a swanky new Canasta Club that serves a proprietary Metamucil Smoothie. For a dollar extra, you get a Gaviscon chaser. Fanstatic.
Must get out and enjoy el sol.
Oh, and for the love of your mother ...